


Back to You (It Always Comes Around)

by pianoforeplay



Series: Back to You [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boy meets boy. Boy falls for boy. And then life happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to You (It Always Comes Around)

**Author's Note:**

> There are some _major_ infidelity issues in this one, so if that's a trigger or squick for you, I'd steer clear. Otherwise, I think it's okay. Also, I should mention that, while this fic is more alternate reality than alternate universe, there are still a few instances where what I've written doesn't quite line up with what we know as "canon". Beyond the obvious, I mean. Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/28964.html) on 12/12/2009.

It's eleven in the morning on a Tuesday in Burbank, the air already unseasonably warm even by Southern California standards. Jensen's hair sticks to the back of his neck as he climbs out of his truck and leans over to grab the stack of loose pages off the passenger seat. He locks the doors, pockets his keys and walks across the stretch of blacktop to the front door of the Warner Brothers office. The lobby is blissfully air-conditioned, a wave of cool air washing over him as he steps inside and gives his name to the girl at the front desk.

She directs him to one of the waiting chairs and he takes a seat, goes over his lines again while he waits, slouched forward with his elbows on his knees. The door swings open a few minutes later, welcoming in a wave of dry heat along with a tall, lanky guy with floppy brown hair. Jensen briefly catches the guy's quiet, strained smile.

The guy gives his name to the receptionist and Jensen sits up straight, holds out his hand. "Hey. So you're Sam."

"Jared," the guy says, a lock of unruly hair dropping over his eyes before he can push it away. His smile is wide. Warm and genuine. "You must be Dean."

"Jensen."

"Real pleasure, man," Jared says and then nods down at the papers in Jensen's hands. "You wanna go over it some before we get called in?"

There's a familiar lilt in the guy's tone, a dip and drag that reminds Jensen of dusty humidity, of never-ending blue sky and cold beer, of pick-up trucks and country radio.

"Yeah," he says, a slow calm working into his bones as he glances down at his papers. "Yeah, definitely."

:::

On their second day of filming the pilot, Jared brings in about twenty dozen donuts for the cast and crew. It's not nearly enough for everyone and Jared ends up eating about half a dozen himself, but nobody seems to mind.

Later, while setting up for a scene, Jensen notices the crust of glazed frosting at the corner of Jared's lips. He catches Jared's eye and taps at his own mouth.

"Hmm?" Jared says, brows furrowed.

"Right there," Jensen says, tapping again.

Jared's frown deepens, confused, before breaking into realization. His tongue darts out, a quick flash of pink and he smiles wide. "Was just savin' it for later."

Jensen smirks and adjusts the collar of Dean's too-large leather jacket, looks over to where Drew's busy adjusting the lighting. He pointedly refuses to fixate.

Seconds later, Jared belches, a loud crack and roll that bounces off the fake walls and Jensen blinks, stares and then doubles over with laughter.

Jared just beams at him. "I know, right!" he says, his chest puffed out. He follows it up with another echoing burp, pats his stomach in apparent satisfaction.

:::

"So how was it?" Steve asks, words slightly muffled against the rim of his beer glass.

Jensen's out with a few of the guys at The Palm, a bar just off the 10 that serves cheap imported beer and hosts live local bands late into the night.

He shrugs, trails a finger along his own glass, splitting and smearing the condensation. "Good," he says. He looks out across the bar to where Chris is readying the pool table for another game, colored balls arranged in a perfect triangle.

"Any chance of it gettin' picked up, you think?"

"Mmm," Jensen says, taking a sip of his beer and wiping at his mouth. "Too early to tell. Feel pretty good about it, though. Should get some good stuff for my reel if nothing else."

Chris catches his eye then, gives a nod as he grabs a cue. Jensen answers with his own nod and slides off his stool, tips his head back to finish off his glass in three large gulps.

"Yeah? That one guy, the dude playing your brother? He sounds pretty cool."

Jensen exhales noisily after he swallows, drops his glass on the table with a thunk. "Jared? Yeah, he's-- He's very cool."

Steve arches an eyebrow and Jensen mirrors it, lips twisting into a half grin. He's barely been able to shut up about Jared all night and he knows it. But the guy's good, fun in a way that's rare in the business so far as Jensen's seen. Laid back without being lazy, a hard worker without being a total jackass.

And Steve, as always, is reading too much into things.

Jensen rolls his eyes, says, "Get me another one, would you?" as he points at his empty glass and leaves to join Chris at the pool table.

:::

He gets the call a week later: The network liked the pilot enough to pick them up for the fall season and they're set to start filming in July. In Vancouver.

"As in Canada?" Tyler says, arching an eyebrow over the spread of pizza in front of them. "Again?"

Jensen shrugs and reaches to pick off a piece of pepperoni, licking the grease from his thumb. "So? It's a cool city."

"Yeah, but didn't they tell you they'd be filming here? In La-la land?"

"Does it matter?"

Tyler frowns down at the pizza and Jensen grins, slow and sure. He flicks a speck of grease at him and says, "Dude, I'm not fuckin' _emigrating_."

"Hmm," Tyler says as he takes a long sip. He doesn't look at Jensen as he swallows.

Jensen's smile slips, then disappears entirely. "Hey, well thanks for being happy for me. Douchebag"

Tyler rolls his eyes. "Don't go all drama queen on me, Ackles. Christ. It'd just be nice if you pretended you might actually miss us, man."

Jensen's scowl doesn't waver much, but he feels the heat in his blood cool as he wipes the napkin over his chin. He pokes at a piece of cheese stuck behind his back tooth and shrugs, lets his lips twitch into a slight smile. "I'll miss your DVD collection?"

"God, I hate you," Tyler says, his knees knocking against the table as he stands up. But Jensen can see he's laughing as he heads into the kitchen, shouting as he goes: "You still have my copy of _Evil Dead_ , by the way. You ain't fleeing the country 'til I get that back, asshole."

:::

Being a lead in an hour-long drama is more work than Jensen had anticipated. There are late nights and early mornings and long stretches in between of line memorization and blocking and stunt choreography. And even longer stretches of waiting and waiting and waiting while simultaneously attempting to invent methods of killing time.

He gets a dart board set up in his trailer when the creative powers that be decide they want him to learn how to throw knives. Jared joins him sometimes, usually when it's raining and he's too wound up to stand his own solitary company. Jensen never really minds and together they color Jensen's trailer wall in gashes and scratches of countless failed attempts.

"You know," Jared says one day, head tilted and brow furrowed, "that part right there looks kinda like Abe Lincoln."

Jensen holds one knife by the blade as he looks from Jared to the wall and back again, frowns in confusion.

Jared glances at him and then laughs. Says, "No, seriously, look." Two strides and he's pointing out a series of gouges in the wall, fingers tracing an area that looks vaguely like a top hat and beard, the smaller ones that make Abe's eyes and mouth.

"That's... kind of disturbing," Jensen says, squinting.

"We should try making George Washington next."

Jensen snorts. "We are not carving Mount Rushmore into my wall."

"Come on, it could be, like, the thirty-seventh wonder of the world!"

Jensen laughs and then gives a nod of his head, raising the knife. "Move," he says. "I'm goin' for Jefferson."

:::

Jensen walks into his trailer on an afternoon in early September to find all the stuff in his fridge -- the jar of pickles and 6-pack of bottled water, carton of sliced cheese, cans of Coke and Molson's and bag of Rainier cherries -- all emptied of their contents. He doesn't notice at first as the bottles and containers are all still in there, set just exactly where he'd last put them. Doesn't notice until he tries to grab a can of Coke and his fingertips send it skittering across the shelf.

Confused, he pulls it out, the thin aluminum crinkling in his grip. The push cap is still in place, seal unbroken. Further inspection reveals two tiny holes near the bottom of the can and he shakes it experimentally.

Then he notices the empty pickle jar and sad little Ziploc bag that had once contained his delicious cherries. He goes through nearly everything, picking up each empty bottle and shaking it, a plastic water bottle groaning in his grip.

" _JARED!_ "

There's a peal of laughter just outside his door and stalks over, yanking it open to find Jared practically doing a dance of glee on the asphalt with Barry, Gene and Karen giggling along with him.

Jensen scowls. "I hate all of you."

"Liar," Karen says, still laughing before she ducks and presses a hand to her headset.

"Man, I wanted to be in there to see your face," Jared says smiling ear-to-ear. "Shoulda tried to get someone to set up a hidden camera."

Jensen chucks the empty bottle at Jared's head, fighting a grin as he says, "You're seriously _such_ a pain in my ass."

"You love me," Jared says, still beaming.

"Kay, guys, they're ready for you," Karen announces, giving Jensen's leg a thwap with her clipboard before heading back toward the set. Gene and Barry both follow, but Jared's still busy laughing, his too-floppy hair falling over his eyes as he clutches his side.

"Hate," Jensen says, pointing a single finger at Jared as he walks past.

:::

Sandy visits for a week in October and Jared spends the entire time glued to her side, introducing her to absolutely everyone on set with an arm wrapped around her waist or rested low on her back.

Jensen likes her. It's impossible _not_ to.

"Jared's talked so much about you," she says while they're relaxing in Jensen's trailer in between scenes. It's raining outside, but inside it's warm and dry and Jensen has the TV turned to some Kurt Russell marathon on TBS.

"Yeah, I call you That Asshole," Jared says, grinning. "She thinks it's sweet."

Jensen laughs and Sandy digs an elbow into Jared's side. When they smile at each other, Jensen looks away, focuses on the ugly pseudo-drapes that cover his window, ignores the way his gut twists uncomfortably.

"Hey, we're gonna grab dinner tonight downtown somewhere. You wanna come?"

Jensen tears his gaze away from the brown-green-brown pattern to see Jared smiling at him, Sandy's hand rested low on his thigh. "N'ah, you should-- you two probably have a lot of catching up to do." Jared's smile falters and Jensen shakes his head. "Seriously," he says, offering the most sincere smile he can manage. "I was plannin' on calling up Ryan anyway. Haven't seen him in a couple months."

"Dude, I'm _inviting_ you," Jared says.

"How about Friday?" Jensen offers, though the entire idea still sounds wholly unappealing. And he can't even say exactly why; Sandy's sweet and friendly and Jared clearly adores her. Jensen tells himself it's just that he doesn't want to be a third wheel, doesn't want to impede on their short time together. It's as good a reason as any, he figures.

Jared's still frowning, but Sandy squeezes his leg, her smile unfaltering. "I think Friday sounds good," she says. "Maybe we could catch a movie or something, too."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees despite himself. "That sounds like a plan."

He likes Sandy and hates the fact that he wishes he didn't.

:::

"It's a PSP," Jared says before Jensen's even finished unwrapping the box. Jensen's fingers graze the black packaging and he glances up, sees Jared leaning forward, eager. Like _Jared's_ the one getting the gift and not the other way around. "You like it? It's just like mine, man. And I'll get you hooked up with the best games so we can play each other on breaks. Might even let you win a couple times."

Staring down at the box, Jensen snorts a laugh, the wrapping paper a crinkled mess at his feet. "It's great, Jay. Feel like I'm about _twelve_ , but it's--"

"Oh, fuck you," Jared says, clapping a hand on Jensen's shoulder, the warmth of it searing Jensen's skin through his t-shirt. "I've seen the way you look at mine while I'm playin'. The sad, pathetic longing..."

Jensen feels his face flush and he coughs a laugh, shoves at Jared's leg as he stares intently at the box. "No, yeah. I'm serious. It's great. Thanks."

Christmas is still three weeks away yet, but Jared hadn't been able to wait any longer. Jensen isn't exactly surprised, but he doesn't have a gift for his own _mother_ yet, much less Jared.

"Here, I'll help you set it up," Jared says, taking the box from Jensen and ripping into it. Jensen watches him, stares at the way Jared's long fingers tear past the packaging tape. When Jared glances up briefly, their gazes locking, Jensen feels his chest seize and stutter.

"Thanks," Jensen says again, his voice surprisingly steady.

"You're gonna love it, I promise," Jared says and Jensen knows they're not thinking about the same thing, but he nods his agreement all the same.

:::

Gene sets up a betting pool for the NFL playoffs and holds a Super Bowl party at his house on the big day. Jensen's got fifty bucks riding on the Seahawks and Jared hollers up a storm when the Steelers execute a killer play in the fourth that has their _receiver_ throwing a 43-yard pass for a touchdown.

Jensen grumbles and reaches for Tracey's seven layer dip. "If you win, you're buyin' me a beer," he says.

"Gladly," Jared replies, settling back into the couch with a wide smile.

"You don't even _like_ the Steelers," Jensen says. He's well aware that he's damn near pouting, but it doesn't make the statement any less true.

"Nope," Jared agrees, smile unwavering. "That don't mean they're not the better team, though."

"You're rooting against the home team," Gene scolds, pointing a finger at Jared and Jensen feels briefly vindicated.

"And I'm gonna be about two hundred bucks richer for it, too," Jared says. He knocks his shoulder against Jensen and adds, "Don't worry, I'll even buy you the good shit to lessen the sting."

The Steelers end up winning 21-10 and the next day there are approximately two hundred Canadian dollars' worth of Skittles stashed in various places around the set and a bow-tied bottle of Jim Beam on the couch in Jensen's trailer.

:::

The last few weeks of shooting fly by and suddenly Jensen's sitting in the make-up trailer, Jeannie meticulously cleaning off his fake head wound. He's sore and tired, but still pumping with adrenaline and he glances over to where Jared's sitting in his own chair, head tipped back and eyes closed, one eye still splotched in purple.

"Back," Jeannie scolds, gently turning Jensen's head into place and dabbing at his cheek.

It's utterly quiet, which isn't entirely unusual. They're used to long days and longer nights, used to the quiet weariness that draws a busy day to a close, everyone pushing through the last hour or two like the living dead.

But this isn't the same. It's heavy with the effort of ignoring the elephant in the room.

"You hear back on that movie yet?"

Jared's voice is low and lazy, his accent dripping in a way Jensen knows from experience only comes from being too exhausted to form words.

Jensen opens his eyes enough to glance over, barely making out Jared's still-prone form.

"Yeah," he says as Jeannie drags the cloth down his cheek and jaw. "Think he's got the cast all set now. Aimin' to shoot in a month or so."

"That's good," Jared says, but something in his voice doesn't sound quite as sincere as normal. "So you're leavin' soon."

"Week or so, yeah."

"Mmm," Jared says and Jensen sees him shift out the corner of his eye, can't tell whether or not Jared's looking at him. "Think I'm gonna start down next weekend."

"Driving?"

"Yeah," Jared says, the word stretched out on a yawn. "Jus' me 'n' Sadie."

Jensen nods and Jeannie pats his cheek. "You're done, Cowboy."

He sucks in a breath and sits up, blinks at his reflection in the mirror. His skin is tinged a faint red, but it's free of Dean's cuts and bruises, hair still damp and disheveled. He looks familiar and foreign both at once, with a smatter of annoying freckles over his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey," Jared says, quieter and Jensen finally looks over again. "You're goin' to the wrap party, right?"

There's a quiet hopefulness in Jared's tone that makes Jensen ache. Everything's up in the air right now until they hear something back from the network. This could be the last he sees of this weird group of people he's come to think of as family. Could be the last he sees of Jared.

Pulling in a breath, Jensen rubs a hand over his face. Says, "Wouldn't miss it."

:::

It's not Jensen's first movie, but the transition from television set to film still takes some adjustment. It's not uncomfortable, exactly; he's friends with the director and already knows Danneel through Riley. And the other actors are all friendly enough. But Kim isn't there to prank and Kevin isn't there to talk about his latest adventures in fatherhood and Jared isn't there to be Jared.

He gets calls every once in awhile. Text messages and e-mails. Jared tells him all about his trip to China and the scripts his agent's sending, though he never really sounds all that enthused about any of them.

"None of 'em include mohawks and nipple rings," he says and Jensen smirks.

"Priestly doesn't have nipple rings."

"You sure? We ever get to see him shirtless?"

"Priestly doesn't have nipple rings," Jensen repeats, but he can't help thinking that, actually, Priestly probably _does_ have nipple rings. Not that Jared needs to know that.

"You gotta send me pictures of this, dude."

"Of the non-existent nipple rings?"

"Of the hair," Jared laughs. "Gotta see this new look Dean's sporting."

It hits a little too close to what neither of them are willing to talk about. Jensen swallows, ignores and evades. "Should make you wait like the rest of America," he says.

Jared barks out a laugh. "Dude, there's maybe, like, _twelve_ people who even know about this. And you're related to half of 'em."

"Fuck you," Jensen says, but he can't really deny it. There's no studio backing the film and, as far as he knows, still no distribution deal. At the moment, it's little more than a labor of love and they all know it. "This is gonna be my break into the mainstream, just you wait."

"Yeah, okay," Jared says, smile still evident in every word. "So take a fucking picture before you're too famous to even look at me."

"I'm already too famous to look at you. Why do you think I always look constipated every time I have to be in your presence."

"Just figured you needed to eat more fiber in your diet."

Jensen's laugh is sharp and he shakes his head as he peeks out the window of his trailer, watches the girls laughing a few yards away. Danneel notices him, grins and sticks her tongue out at him and Jensen smiles back, bumps the window with the heel of his hand.

"Hey, look, I gotta go, man," he tells Jared, switching the phone from one ear to the other as he grabs a water from the fridge.

"Yeah, alright," Jared says. "But I'm totally serious, dude. Picture."

"You know, Jay," Jensen says, thumbing open his trailer door, "now's as good a time as any to learn we can't always get what we want."

He hangs up to the sound of Jared still laughing.

:::

He enlists Danneel to take a picture of him the next day while he's in the blue hair and kilt, sends it to Jared in an e-mail with _'I've shown you mine, now show me yours'_.

"I like it," Danneel says later with a coy little smile, fingertips touching the spikes.

Jensen grins. Says, "Yeah, it really brings out my eyes."

"Well, I'm not sure about _that_ ," she teases, cocking her hips.

She kisses him a week later in the wardrobe trailer, smelling of coconut oil and salt water and, when she pulls back, she looks about as surprised as Jensen feels.

"Uhm," he says, blinking and Danneel laughs, her cheeks flushing red.

"Yeah, that was--" she says, bites her bottom lip. "You, uh. You wanna go out this weekend? Maybe see a movie?"

Jensen wonders about Riley, but doesn't ask. Riley is more acquaintance than friend and it's probably not his business anyway. Then he thinks about Jared, thinks about Sandy and says, "Yeah, sure. Absolutely."

:::

They film a few of the sandwich shop scenes in one long day, the schedule clumped in groups according to the state of Priestly's hair. It's nearing evening when Jensen gets back to his trailer and his phone blinks, alerting him to four missed calls - one from his agent and three from Jared.

But there's only one voicemail: his agent happily informing him of the network's decision to renew.

He barely finishes listening to the details before his phone starts buzzing in his hand.

"Hey," Jensen breathes just as Jared rushes out a, "Dude, did you hear?"

"Yeah," Jensen says, more a laugh than an actual word. "Just now. Been busy on set all afternoon."

"I've been tryin' to call you for, like, an hour."

Jensen laughs again, nearly giddy with it, months of anxiety seeping out every pore. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Talked to Krip already," Jared continued, unheeded. "Said he'll probably have the first script sent out to us in the next couple weeks."

"Yeah? Wow."

"Yeah," Jared says, laughing again. "Holy shit, man, we did it. Holy shit!"

"We did it," Jensen agrees and then groans wearily. "Man, this means I gotta deal with your ugly mug every day for another year," he says and Jared laughs, bright and warm in his ear.

"You love my ugly mug, Schmackles. Don't even lie."

:::

By the end of July, he's back in Canada. Barring a few new faces, most everyone on set is familiar, all of them eager and excited to be back to work.

Jeannie and Shannon have new pictures up on the mirror, one of which Jensen recognizes as the photo he'd sent Jared months before, blue hair spiked high, a dark tattoo creeping up his neck. Groaning, he rips it off the glass and Jeannie immediately smacks his arm and snatches it away.

"Don't," she warns, eyes hard though she's clearly fighting a smile. "This is a masterpiece and mine fair and square. You got an issue with that, you take it up with Jumbo."

"I sent that to him in confidence," Jensen argues.

"Not my problem," Jeannie says as she carefully pockets the picture in her apron and shoves him to take a seat, fingers raking through his hair.

Jared shows up minutes later, cradling an enormous bag of Skittles. His smile is nearly blinding when he meets Jensen's eyes in the mirror.

"You!" Jensen says, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You shared my picture."

Jared blinks, his smile slipping. "What picture?"

"You know what picture."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jared says and he actually looks like he means it.

Jensen arches an eyebrow. "Nipple rings?"

Behind him, Jeannie snorts out a laugh and Jensen shoots her a glare.

"Oh, that one! Yeah, well. I knew Jeannie would appreciate the artistry."

"Thank you, Jared," Jeannie says and Jensen rolls his eyes.

"You're an asshole," he says, fighting a smile.

"Also, I'm an asshole," Jared agrees.

Shannon reaches past him to steal a handful of candy and Jared smiles wide, wraps one long arm around her to pull her into a hug and Jensen knows suddenly, with a blinding, startling clarity, that this is exactly what he's been waiting for since April.

:::

"You're an idiot," Jensen mutters as the on-set nurse runs a thumb along the inside of Jared's wrist.

Jared winces when Randy brushes what's clearly a tender spot. "It was _fine_ ," he says through gritted teeth and the nurse shoots him a look. "It was! I just--"

"It never properly healed," Randy says.

Jared's lips twist into a scowl, though he has the decency to also look at least a little guilty.

"You're going to need a cast, Jared," Randy continues as he sits back.

Jared's shoulders slump forward. "Great."

"We can't," Bob Singer says gruffly just over Jensen's shoulder. "Continuity. We'll have to figure out how to write it in."

Jensen bristles, bites back the impulse to point out that _Jared's broken wrist_ should maybe take priority over a potential plot hole. It's a ridiculous reaction and he knows it, but it doesn't subside any until Jared visibly relaxes.

"Yeah, that makes sense," he says, nodding at Bob as he gingerly pulls his arm in close. "I'll just... be careful 'til then."

Jensen lets out a breath, settles his hand carefully against Jared's back. "You're still a fucking idiot," he grumbles.

:::

When the cast comes off months later, Jared spends hours poking at the pale, clammy skin, curls his hand into a loose fist and weakly turns his wrist, trying to get used to the sensation all over again.

Jensen watches him, expression morphing from concern to slow, wary amusement.

"Know what you'll be doin' tonight," he remarks and Jared frowns in confusion. Jensen mentally counts the seconds before Jared gets it, watches the crease between his brows smooth clear and a smile tug at his lips.

"Hey, I'm pretty good with my left," he says, curling said hand into a loose fist and pumping the air.

Jensen does his best to ignore the mental image that springs to mind, looks away sharply with a laugh. "Yeah, I bet. You're a bonafide Mr. Ambidextrous."

"Aw, don't be jealous," Jared says, clapping a hand on Jensen's shoulder and using him for leverage as he pushes to his feet. "Just say the word and I'll teach you a thing or two."

Jensen shoves Jared's hand off and has a good retort on the tip of his tongue, a remark about having been jerking off longer than Jared's known what his dick's even _for_ , but he never gets it out. Jared's fingers skim along his hair, the touch sending an embarrassing shiver down his spine and he ducks his head with a rough cough, ignores the low, embarrassing pulse of want in his belly.

:::

They get a three-week break for Christmas, which Jensen decides to spend in Dallas. As usual, the house is full to capacity for a week straight, distant family members coming and going as one room steadily fills with presents. The place is a complete madhouse on Christmas Day and Jensen spends much of it going back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, doling out coffee and hot chocolate and eggnog for his grandparents and aunts and uncles and million or so cousins.

"It's good to see you here, Jensen," his uncle Mark says as the day starts to wind down. Most of the women are crammed into the kitchen, readying dinner while half the kids run through the halls, playing loudly with their new favorite toys. The guys have taken over the living room, griping and cheering in equal amounts at the Cowboys game.

Jensen smiles, cocks his head back as the game flickers to commercial. "You, too. Good to be here."

"Well, I mean, it's good we haven't lost you," he amends. "Gotta say, when I heard you was goin' out there, I thought for sure we'd never see you again."

Jensen's smile falters. Sure, he's missed a Christmas here and there, but he's made a point of trying to make every one that had been remotely possible.

"Don't get me wrong, I know you're a good boy, Jensen. But it's-- it's _California_." Mark says the word like it's a particularly nasty disease and Jensen's grip on his beer tightens, discomfort winding sharp around his insides. "Figured they'd brainwash you out there like they do everyone else. Make you into a rainbow-flyin' freak or somethin', you know? But, here you are. Still the good Texas boy your momma made you. And she tells me you got a girl out there! Danielle?"

"Danneel," Jensen says, but it comes out sounding tight, almost defensive.

"Danneel, right," he replies. "You didn't bring her along?"

"She's visiting her family," Jensen says, forcing his tone to stay clam and even. "In New York."

"Ah, I see," Mark says, though he appears vaguely disapproving. "Well, maybe next year. Jus' so we know you ain't makin' her up."

Jensen considers pulling out the photo in his wallet, the one taken of the both of them just before he'd left for Vancouver, but immediately decides against it. He has nothing he needs to prove.

"Yeah, sure," he says instead and turns his attention back to the television when the game resumes, tries telling himself he doesn't have anything to hide.

:::

"I'm gettin' another dog," Jared says out of the blue. They're relaxing in the Impala between takes and Jensen instinctively glances over towards the trailers. He can't see them from where they are, but back beyond the lights and the trees and the buildings, he can imagine Sadie curled up on Jared's couch, leaving little brown and black hairs all over the cushions.

"What's wrong with the one you have?"

Jared snorts. "I mean another one as in, _in addition to_. Sadie's not goin' anywhere."

"Okay," Jensen says, relaxing a little. "When?"

"Uhm. It's already in the works, actually, so soon. I'm gonna pick him up down in LA when we're finished up here."

" _Here_ here or, like--"

"When we're done for the year," Jared says. The look on his face is strange, Jensen notices. Cautious. Like he's expecting Jensen to try and talk him out of it. Like Jensen has that kind of control over anything Jared does.

"Well, that's cool," Jensen says and Jared's face immediately breaks into a smile. "What kind is it?"

"He's a Mastiff mix, a rescue dog. He was in pretty bad shape when they found him, but they've been nursing him back to health and think he's good for a family now. He's been great around other dogs so far, too. They've sent me a few pictures; I can show you later."

"Yeah?" Jensen says. It's not what he'd been expecting to hear, but he can't say he's surprised. "Sounds like work."

Jared smiles again, lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "He'll be worth it."

Such a simple turn of phrase, but Jensen feels something tighten in his chest and he swallows, looks out the windshield where Tad's setting up the camera. "What's Sandy think?"

Jared lets out a quick, stilted laugh. Says, "Uhm. I haven't exactly told her yet."

Jensen arches an eyebrow as he looks over again. "You're planning on just surprising her with a dog."

"No," Jared says, but he sounds guilty, like maybe that's exactly what he'd been planning. "She likes dogs, though. Loves Sadie. I'm sure she'll be cool with it."

"Mmm," Jensen says, taps his fingers against the steering wheel.

"I'll tell her," Jared says and Jensen can't help wondering why he sounds so resigned.

:::

They wrap up the last episode at around 3:00 a.m. on a Friday in April and the subsequent party is scheduled for the following night, at a bar half a mile from the studio.

Jensen shows up an hour late and Jared greets him with a red cup and a wide smile.

"Here's to one more year," he says and Jensen takes it, chugs back half the contents before Jared links an arm around his neck and pulls him into the crowd.

The rest of the evening is a blur of loud music and laughter. He gets talked into joining Gene, Barry, Dawn and Kim in a horrendously off-key and out of sync version of "Loveshack", the entire bar joining in for the, " _Tiiiiiiiiin roof! Rusted!_ " portion, Jared's voice unsurprisingly the loudest of them all.

At some point after midnight, Jared pulls Jensen away, thrusting a joint into his hand.

"From Brad," he says, voice low and lazy as he pulls a lighter from his pocket. "B.C. bud. Good shit, man," he adds with a gleam and Jensen lifts it to his lips as Jared lights the tip.

He pulls in a slow hit, holds it deep in his lungs, Jared's gaze on him the entire time before exhaling. Jared looks at him like he's expecting confirmation, grin still plastered across his face and Jensen nods, glances down at the rolled paper snug between his thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, it's good," he says.

They split the rest, passing it back and forth between them as the party rages on only a few feet away, the sounds slowly growing more muted and distant as Jensen's mind starts to fill with cotton and his limbs grow heavy.

"Really good shit," Jensen says a few moments later, the words a little slurred.

Jared only grins, all bright teeth and dark eyes. He pops the slug into the hole of an empty beer can and grabs Jensen by the wrist, tugs him away from the crowd with a, "C'mere. Somethin' I wanna show you."

"Is it more weed?" Jensen asks, practically giggling as he lets Jared drag him down the back hall.

"Better," Jared promises, pulling him past the doors to the kitchen and restrooms and into a little nook that houses a payphone and a stack of telephone books. The sounds of the party are muted, but still audible and a faint light blinks just above Jared's head as he turns to face Jensen. His cheeks are flushed red from booze and bud and the heat of the bar and Jensen laughs up at him.

"You wanna show me a payphone?" he says, but the words are cut short when Jared ducks down and kisses him.

It's dry and quick and so shocking that Jensen doesn't even move. Can't. His breath catches and he feels suddenly too high and too drunk and way, _way_ too sober all at once. Jared's still watching him, pupils blown dark and he looks confident, like he knows just exactly what he's doing while Jensen's entire grip on reality is busy cracking and shattering around him.

"This," Jared whispers inexplicably and Jensen can only get in a single blink before Jared's on him again. One warm hand touches his neck, angles his chin upward and then Jared's tongue is in his mouth, stealing every breath, every word and possible objection.

"This," he murmurs again as Jensen sucks in a shaky breath, their noses pressed together. And Jensen finally crumbles, caves under the weight, finds Jared's hips in the curve of his palms and holds on.

:::

He wakes up the next morning to buzzing.

With a grunt, he throws his arm out from under the covers and clamps a hand over his alarm clock. The sound doesn't stop. Frowning in confusion, he squints against the streaks of sunlight pouring in through his bedroom window and, after a few more seconds of consciousness, finally realizes the source. With another groan, he pushes himself out of bed and grabs his jeans off the floor, shoves one hand into the pocket to pull out his vibrating phone and grumbles a hello.

"Dude, guess what?"

Jensen frowns and pulls the phone away from his ear, glances down at the screen to see _'Jared'_ lit up in bright blue letters.

Memory hits like a tidal wave then, the events of the night before crashing down on him from all sides, smothering, locking his breath tight in his chest. He can't manage a single word, every bit of his just-awakened brain completely focused on the memory of Jared's mouth and hands.

"Jensen? You there?"

Jensen winces and swallows tight, summons all his strength to grunt out a sound of acknowledgment.

"You know that Thomas Kinkade thing?"

"Huh?" Jensen manages as his heart rate gradually slows to something more manageable.

"Thomas Kinkade. The painter? Dude, I swear I told you about this. Anyway, they made an offer."

"Oh, right," Jensen says even as his brain's still scrambling to remember. "Dude, that's-- that's great. Are you taking it?"

"You kidding me? Hell, yeah. They got Peter fuckin' O'Toole already signed on."

Jensen blinks. "Like, _Laurence of Arabia_ Peter O'Toole?"

"The one and only."

"Holy shit."

"I know, right? Almost makes up for having to learn to paint with my left hand."

"I didn't know Peter O'Toole was still _alive_."

"I can't even paint with my _right_ hand. Think Peter O'Toole could give me some pointers on that?"

"On painting?" Jensen asks, the words stretched around a yawn as he finally starts making his way to the kitchen. He gets in a few jabs about Jared's mythical ambidexterity and lets Jared ramble at him about the movie, grunting in the appropriate places as he fixes himself a pot of coffee and, eventually, he isn't at all thinking about the night before.

Though, when Jared ends the conversation with, "Anyway, I'll talk at you later; gotta go pick Sandy up at the airport," it still hits harder than it should.

:::

Summer finds him back in Dallas, in a theater production of _A Few Good Men_. It's something he hasn't done since high school, something different. A challenge.

"I think I'd piss myself up there," Jared says over the phone a week before Jensen's theater debut. "You nervous?"

"Terrified," Jensen confesses with a choked sort of laugh. "I mean-- I know my lines and cues and all that, but yeah. It's fuckin' terrifying, Jay, not gonna lie."

"I think it's pretty awesome," Jared says, voice warm and Jensen struggles not to read too much into the tone. "Not as awesome as Peter O'Toole, but pretty awesome."

Jensen laughs. "Thanks."

The first performance goes off with barely a hitch and Jensen soaks up the applause at curtain call, feels an overwhelming sense of validation he's never once gotten in front of a camera.

The second show is easier, but doesn't quite feel as good as the first. The third is better. By the fourth, the swell of anticipation and fear is familiar and bizarrely comforting. The lines and blocking are second nature, sliding off with ease as he rides the wave of audience reaction. It feels good, fulfilling in a way Jensen had never anticipated and, at curtain call that night, there's a familiar figure standing tall in the fourth row, clapping loud and whooping his name.

It's the first Jensen's seen of him since the wrap party, the first since Jared kissed him next to a dirty payphone in a shitty bar and Jensen can't stop smiling.

:::

Jared and Sandy take him out for drinks afterward, grabbing a table near the back where the lights are dim.

Jared runs a hand over Jensen's hair, fingertips digging in at the crown. "So. Mohawk to buzzcut," he says, grinning. His fingers slide lower, nails light over the short hairs at the back of Jensen's neck.

"Dude," he says, shrugging Jared off and darting a quick glance at Sandy, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Jared's always been handsy, always completely ignored personal space. But it feels different now. After.

But Sandy only smiles, sweet and unassuming as she says, "Think you missed your calling, Jensen. Military looks good on you."

It takes about three rounds before Jensen's feeling loose and relaxed enough to ignore how awkward it is to be sitting in a bar in his hometown with the guy he made out with months ago and that guy's long-term girlfriend.

At least until said girlfriend excuses herself to use the restroom and said guy turns to look at him.

"Bet you're wonderin' why I'm even here," Jared says, his tone low and partially accusatory, though there's a grin tugging at his lips. Jensen kind of wants to bite it off him.

"N'ah, you're being supportive," Jensen says, thumb brushing along the neck of his beer bottle. "It's awesome of you. Seriously, I really appreciate it."

Jared laughs a little, quiet and humorless. "That's not-- Well, I mean, part of it is, sure," Jared says, shifting so that his knee bumps against Jensen's under the table.

Jensen wants to ask what the other part is, but given the way Jared's looking at him with hunched shoulders and intent eyes, he's pretty sure he gets the picture.

Clearing his throat, Jensen sits up a little straighter and glances over in the direction of the bathrooms. Says, "Think Sandy really enjoyed it."

"Yeah," Jared says, his smile dimming somewhat before he takes another sip of his beer. "She's a big Lou Diamond Phillips fan."

Jensen snorts a laugh then, relaxes as Jared's smile turns from predatory back to playful. Genuine and easy.

"I'm glad you came," he says a moment later, knocking his foot against Jared's lightly.

And Jared clinks the butt of his bottle against Jensen's, tosses him a wink. "Wouldn't miss it."

:::

News of renewal comes later that week and Jensen doesn't know whether to feel relieved or just anxious to get started. He takes a trip to Japan with Danneel after the play finishes and then flies up to Vancouver two weeks prior to shooting to get moved into Ryan's spare room. It's not ideal, a good thirty minutes' further commute to the studio, but it beats staying in a hotel.

Jared flies up a week later and they grab some coffee at Starbucks.

"How's Danneel?" Jared asks around his cup of cinnamon dolce latte. It's Jared's usual, a venti with extra whipped cream that always ends up painting his upper lip.

Jensen's surprised by the question as he blows across the surface of his own steaming coffee and smiles like he's hiding something. "Good. She got a dog 'bout a month or so ago. Ever heard of a Cockapoo?"

Jared snorts. "A _Cockapoo_? You got a Cockapoo. Seriously?"

" _Danneel_ got a Cockapoo," Jensen says, correcting him with a sharp look and then shrugs. "He's actually kinda cute."

"A Cockapoo is so not a real dog."

"Fuck you, just because he's not the size of a _pony_ \--"

"It's a sample dog. Like one of those things you can wind up and let loose and it, like, waddles across your kitchen table until it falls off the edge..."

"You're such an asshole."

Jared grins. "What's his name?"

Jensen takes a sip of his coffee, swallows it down and says, "Icarus."

"Tell Danneel to bring him up the next time she visits. We can have a puppy play date!"

"... Wow. This from the who just gave me shit about having a _Cockapoo_."

"It'll be like snack time for Harley," Jared says, grinning, and Jensen can't hold back a laugh.

:::

In October, Jared buys a house. It's a two-story just outside the city with four bedrooms and two and a half baths and an enormous backyard. Jared claims it's for the dogs, but Jensen knows there's more to it than that. It's Jared getting restless, anxious to dig in roots and build a foundation for the future and Jensen refuses to let himself think about how much or how little he may factor into any of it.

Half the crew is there to help in the move, a fleet of trucks carrying stuff from Jared's apartment to his new home in a single trip.

Jensen stays long after everyone else has left, helping Jared carry boxes from one room to another, arranging and rearranging furniture. They order a pizza later that night and eat it in the kitchen, Jared propped up on the counter with Jensen on the island just across from him.

The heel of Jensen's foot knocks lightly against wood -- _thunk-thunk-thunk_ \-- and he licks a line of grease off his bottom lip. Says, "You really gonna stay here after the show's done?"

Jared shrugs, takes a sip of his beer.

"Kinda hopin' the show'll stick around for awhile," he says and Jensen manages to hold himself back from pointing out how quickly they could get canceled, how fragile the whole thing really is. Especially with the writer's guild shit going on. "I like it here. I mean-- it ain't Texas or nothin', but it's nice. Better than LA."

And Jensen can't argue that. There's good work in Vancouver, good people and, while there's no such thing as certainty in their line of work, that's true no matter the location.

But, after the show finishes or gets canceled, Jensen's headed back to LA. He has a place there. He has Danneel. And he doesn't need to think about the possibility of being in a city Jared isn't.

"So when do you show it to Sandy?"

Jared's smile falters then. "I, uh," he says, ducking his head clearing his throat roughly. "Don't know yet."

Jensen arches an eyebrow. Jared's always been an open book, every emotion written in the curve of his lips or hard line of his shoulder, about as subtle as a buzzing neon sign and, when he looks up to meet Jensen's eyes, the only emotion Jensen can see is _longing_.

The slice of pizza droops in Jensen's grip as his legs stop swinging. Jared slides off the opposite counter.

"I don't know how to tell her," Jared says, taking a step closer and Jensen suspects they're not talking about the house anymore.

There's still a chunk of pizza in his throat and he almost chokes on it, eyes stinging as he catches his breath. Jared's standing close, so close, nestled right between Jensen's thighs, but not quite touching.

"Jared--"

"It hasn't been working for awhile," Jared continues. "We're not-- I mean, I still love her. I do. But we're just... this distance thing sucks and she has her own life and I have mine and I want..."

Jensen's fairly sure he doesn't want to know how that sentence ends, but, at the same time, he _needs_ to. Jared's still watching him, _studying_ him with a furrowed brow, anxious and expectant and everything Jensen's been trying so hard not to think about for months. His chest feels too tight, feels like any movement will shatter whatever false reality he's suddenly found himself in, but, when he finally releases a shaky breath, the smile Jared gives him is heartbreakingly hopeful.

"God, I _want_ ," Jared says, like he's cracking open right there, right in the half-empty kitchen between Jensen's legs, against his lips, falling to pieces under the slick touch of tongue on tongue.

And Jensen lets him, dropping his pizza aside to shove a hand up under Jared's shirt.

He blocks out every thought of Sandy and Danneel, every thought of how this could totally fuck up their friendship and the show, their entire _careers_ if they let it get too far. Just focuses on the feel of Jared's mouth, so much better than the first time. So much better now that he's sober. Jared kisses like he does everything else, with an unquestionable eagerness, one broad hand cupping Jensen's cheek as his tongue steals every whimper between them.

Jared makes him come twenty minutes later, one hand shoved down Jensen's jeans as he bites at the skin just under Jensen's ear, mutters dark, heated promises.

Later, after he's recovered, Jensen sinks to his knees and mouths Jared's length through denim, fumbles with the buttons and zipper and barely gets his tongue on bare skin before Jared shudders, splatters across Jensen's cheek and chin.

Laughing, Jensen wipes a hand across his face and gets to his feet, silences Jared's embarrassed apologies with a sticky kiss.

:::

Jared has two guitars: an acoustic and an electric. They'd stayed hidden before moving into his house and he confesses to not knowing how to play either one.

"Figured I'd learn some day," he says with a shrug when Jensen asks why the hell he bought them in the first place. "Plus, they look awesome."

Jensen rolls his eyes and bites back the impulse to point out how douchey it is to use musical instruments for the sole purpose of interior decorating before Jared thrusts the acoustic into his arms.

"Dude, you should teach me."

It's a nice one. A Taylor 6-string with a gorgeous inlay along the sound hole and, judging by how incredibly out of tune it is, Jared hasn't laid a finger on it since the day he bought it.

Despite his better judgment, Jensen tries teaching Jared the main chord fingerings that night. The major ones come easily enough, but he has trouble with a few of the minor ones, cringing at the dissonance that resonates with every failed attempt, the dull thrum when he puts too much pressure in the wrong places.

After a few hours, Jared's had enough and he sets the guitar aside, brushes the pad of his thumb over his sore fingertips.

"Just takes practice," Jensen assures him when he notices the familiar frown of failure curving Jared's lips.

Jared glances up then and just _looks_ at Jensen, his expression completely unreadable. He's not upset, but he's not smiling either. Pensive, though his eyes don't give away what he might be thinking at all. It's disconcerting on a level Jensen isn't expecting and he frowns, feels his gut twist in concern and mounting dread.

And then Jared shifts, rises up on his hands and knees and crawls over, soundlessly pushes Jensen back into the couch.

Jensen falls back easily, if only because he still has no idea what's going on inside Jared's head and he's not sure he wants to ask. These days, he's afraid of what the answer might be.

When Jared's lips touch his own, it isn't really a surprise. They've done this countless times now, though only in the privacy of Jared's house or Jensen's apartment when Ryan's out. Nowhere where there's any chance of them being found out.

It still sends a thrill down his spine though and Jensen opens to it immediately, lets his worry and curiosity slip away under the gentle, insistent press of Jared's tongue. They stay just like that for a long while, trading slow, wet kisses like horny teenagers, Jensen's hands slipping under Jared's t-shirt to run over smooth, warm skin as Jared rocks against him.

They fuck for the first time that night, Jared growling and panting his name the whole time, whispering promises Jensen burns to believe. Promises of later, of more, of endless nights just like this one, of he and Jensen against the world.

:::

Jensen's in Dallas for Thanksgiving when he gets a call from Jared. His family's busy putting up the Christmas decorations and he mutters a, "Hang on a sec," into the phone before handing Mackenzie a knotted string of lights and stepping outside.

The air's cool, but it's nothing compared to Vancouver, crisp air biting the bare skin of his forearms and neck. Pitching his voice lower, Jensen heads to the other end of the porch.

"Hey."

"Hey," Jared replies and just Jared's voice is enough to make Jensen go warm all over. "How's it goin'?"

He tells Jared about his grandmother's turkey and potatoes and chocolate pie and Jared groans with jealousy. The sound has an immediate effect on Jensen's dick and he growls a warning in response, hazarding a glance over his shoulder to ensure no wayward relative has wandered outside.

Jared laughs an apology and then asks about his family, about Mac's latest boyfriend and Jensen's new nephew. He fills Jared in on all the latest family drama, but there's only so much to tell and, after a brief lull, he says, "So. How's Sandy?"

Jared's beat of silence speaks volumes and Jensen immediately regrets asking.

There's a splintered piece of wood on the deck railing and he carefully pulls it free as Jared finally says, "She's good. She likes the house."

Jensen bends the strip of torn wood in his grip. "It's a nice house," he says and then adds, "So, how about that game? I mean, I was expecting a win, but _Jesus_."

The relief is evident in Jared's tone as they slip into debating the likelihood of the Cowboys making the playoffs and, if Jensen's heart feels a little heavier by the time they hang up, it's nobody's business but his own.

:::

There's an unspoken rule between them that nothing happens on set. They show up and do their jobs, goof off with the rest of the crew when they can get away with it and give absolutely no one any reason to question their relationship. Ever.

For the most part, it's easy. Because whatever else he and Jared may be, whatever this _thing_ is between them, they're still co-workers, still _friends_. It's just as easy now to give Jared shit about how much he eats and farts as it's always been. And, if the way Jared flaunts kicking his ass at Madden is anything to go by, Jensen figures the feeling's mutual.

So they don't do anything on set. No ducking behind trucks for a quick kiss or stealing away to their trailers for a blowjob, no significant looks between shots. Nothing. Or at least nothing that isn't over-the-top. Because Jared still likes to mess around, likes to make teasing comments about Dean's kissable lips and manly buttocks that anyone can chalk up to Jared just being Jared.

But sometimes, it's hard. Sometimes, it's very very hard.

It's been a long day, both physically and emotionally and Jensen's stressed about an upcoming scene, one where he basically has a five-minute argument with himself. Meanwhile, Jared's been hyper all day. Hopped up on sugar and completely obnoxious. He keeps touching Jensen, keeps wrapping an arm over his shoulders and dragging him around between takes, keeps making pouty, kissy faces while they're shooting Jensen's coverage and making lewd gestures and dirty remarks after each cut. And it's driving Jensen _crazy_.

"Dude, seriously," Jensen snaps at one point when Jared has a hand low on Jensen's neck, fingers sneaking just beneath the collar of Dean's shirt. "Cut it out."

Jared only arches an eyebrow in reply. Says, "What?" like he really has no idea.

They get the rest of the scene wrapped in a few more takes, but Jensen's tense the entire time, all his focus directed on ignoring the way Jared keeps looking at him and licking his lips. It's not on purpose, it _can't_ be -- Jared has just as much to lose as Jensen if anything ever gets out -- but every time Jared drags his tongue across his bottom lip, Jensen struggles with wanting to kill him or fuck him.

By the time they break for dinner, Jensen's strung tight and ready to snap, dick half hard in his jeans. They're alone in Jared's trailer, which isn't at all unusual; it's dry there, and warm, and most everyone else is busy readying the set for the next scene. Jared has his lips wrapped tight around a stalk of asparagus when Jensen breaks, eyes flashing dark as he reaches across the table to grab the offending piece of food from Jared's mouth.

"Fuck, what the hell--" Jared starts before Jensen lunges forward, shutting him up with a violent kiss, one hand heavy at the back of Jared's neck.

For a long, terrifying moment, Jared doesn't react, his mouth slack beneath Jensen's, breath held and muscles tense. It lasts just long enough for Jensen to start to ease his hold, a barrage of insincere apologies on the tip of his tongue. But then Jared surges forward, kisses like he's starving for it, like he wants it just as bad as Jensen.

They manage to get themselves under control before it goes too far, Jared reluctantly breaking the kiss with a rough laugh.

"Your fault," Jensen says before he can get in a word. His lips are sore and his dick is still aching.

"Huh," Jared says with a slow grin and a tilt of his head. Then his shoulders shimmy and he breaks out into a falsetto of Robert Palmer's "Simply Irresistible" that quickly takes care of Jensen's erection. "He's so fiiiiine, there's no telling where the money went... he's all miiiiiine, there's no other way to go. Ooh-woh-ohhh."

And it's right then, stuck inside a cramped trailer with the taste of butter and roast beef and _Jared_ in his mouth, that Jensen knows he's completely fucked.

:::

The writers strike forces the show into an indefinite hiatus just before Christmas and Jensen heads to New York with Danneel over the holidays. It's his first time meeting her parents. He feels like it should be a bigger deal.

On the flight, Danneel gives him a refresher on how everyone is related to everyone else with helpful physical descriptions like, _Uncle Kent has a birthmark on his neck in the shape of a deformed gazelle_ and _Aunt Edele is the one with the mullet_ and _Katie's the one who constantly has a kid hanging off her leg_.

Any nervousness he might've had evaporates when Danneel's father greets them at the airport by shaking Jensen's hand and then pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh. Wow," is all her mom says to him. "You're even more gorgeous in person."

"He's taken, Momma," Danneel says, grinning as she leans in for a kiss.

Despite the friendly meeting, the first few days are awkward. Jensen feels overly cautious of everything he says and does and is only truly comfortable in the evenings, behind the closed door of the guest room he shares with Danneel.

Jared calls him a few days before Christmas and they spend an hour catching up without actually saying much of anything at all.

"Any news from Eric?" Jensen asks as Danneel slides behind him onto the bed, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Nope, nothin'. Figure we'll see it on the news before we hear it from him anyway."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, though it does little to ease the worry. He settles his hand over Danneel's and she hugs him tight, presses a kiss to his temple.

:::

There are a surprising amount of presents for him under the tree on Christmas morning and he nurses an extra large mug of coffee as Danneel's six year old cousin, Kelly, passes out the gifts.

"This one's for... Jen-- Jens-- Jensen?" she says, looking up with a smile for confirmation.

She's missing one of her front teeth and Danneel leans forward to tug her shirt playfully. Says, "Who's it from?"

"Uhm." Kelly stops two feet from them, brow furrowed as she looks back down at the label and struggles to sound out the letters. "Home-- Homedog Jay?"

Danneel grins knowingly as Jensen snorts out a laugh. "He sent it here a couple weeks ago," she explains as Kelly hands over the box and then hightails it back to the tree. "Surprised he didn't just give it to you before you left."

"Yeah," Jensen says, a low, pleasant heat, curling in his stomach. He knows Jared and he's not surprised at all.

:::

"Me and Sandy are goin' to Europe," Jared tells him the day after New Year's. Jensen's outside, watching Danneel play with her cousins in the snow, little puffs of white filtering past his lips with every breath. "We leave in a couple weeks."

"Oh," Jensen says, his new watch -- Jared's Christmas gift to him -- catching and reflecting beams of sunlight. "Wow. Last minute decision?"

"Kinda. We've been thinkin' about it for awhile and it just... felt like a good time. With the strike and all..."

Jensen swallows, squints across the backyard to where Danneel's helping Kelly and Dylan build a snow fort. "Where you goin'?"

"We're aiming for the big ones. London, Berlin, Paris, maybe sneak in Prague or somethin'..."

"Sounds fun."

"Yeah," Jared says, quieter. They fall into an awkward silence and Jensen glances up again when he hears a shriek, watches as Dylan topples into a snow drift, short limbs flailing, his sister giggling a few feet away. Danneel's laughing with them as she trudges over to pull Dylan up out of the snow, but when she looks at Jensen, her smile falters.

Jensen sucks in a breath, cold air sharp in his lungs. "Hey, I'm gonna go," he says. "My girlfriend's about to get her ass kicked by a coupla eight year olds. Figure she could use my help."

The word choice is deliberate and he knows Jared gets it, listens for the rushed, "Yeah, 'course. Right. Tell her hi for me, dude."

"Sure," Jensen says. "I'll talk to you later, Jay. Have a nice trip."

"Happy New Year," Jared murmurs and Jensen ends the call.

:::

The network sets him up with a promotional tour through Australia during the strike that includes about a hundred interviews and a couple dozen ad spots and photo shoots in the effort to promote the hell out of the show. It's not exactly Jensen's idea of a good time. The interviews are vaguely uncomfortable at best and extremely awkward at worst, but he likes the country and the people and, if nothing else, it feels good to get away and soak up the sun while everyone else he knows back home is still suffering through winter.

Danneel flies out with him, but has to get back to LA after the first week. She checks up on his place when she gets there, makes sure all his furniture's where he left it and that Tyler hasn't set up camp in his bathtub again.

"Jared sent you a few postcards," she tells him while Jensen's eating lunch between interviews. He gets free incoming calls on his SIM card, but he's only given the number to Danneel, his agent, his lawyer and his parents. Not much need for anyone else to have it.

"Mmm," he replies, washing down the greens with a swig of beer. It's barely past noon on a Tuesday, beautiful outside and he's already drinking; it's entirely possible that sometimes he loves his life.

"Got... London, Bath, Stonehenge -- or Salisbury, I guess -- uhm... Berlin. What, has he been over there for a month?"

"Two weeks," Jensen says, picks a piece of chicken out of teeth with his tongue. "Gets back this weekend, I think."

Danneel hums an acknowledgment and falls silent. Jensen imagines she's reading them one by one, trying to decipher Jared's nearly illegible scrawl on the back of each card. But he doesn't ask her what they say, tries to tell himself it's because he doesn't care.

"I think he picked possibly the ugliest ones he could find," she says a moment later, amusement clear in her tone and Jensen laughs, figures that sounds about right.

:::

He gets home a week before his birthday to thirty-four messages on his answering machine, a good half of which are from Jared.

" _Dude, we just got in today. You still down under? Uh, call me when you get home, 'kay? Need to know if you got beat up by any kangaroos. Or Hugh Jackman._ "

Jensen saves the one that consists solely of a warbled rendition of Men At Work's "Land Down Under" and barely glances at the postcards decorating his fridge before heading upstairs to unpack. He falls asleep an hour later, travel-weary and jet-lagged and barely out of his clothes, wakes up at three in the morning with a crick in his neck and sheets twisted around his ankle.

He tosses and turns for an hour before finally giving up and heading downstairs.

The early hour actually feels fairly normal, though he's not quite used to it in the setting of his own home. He holds a mug of coffee close, breathing in the smell and keeps expecting to be beckoned by the honk of an SUV.

He's stretched out on his couch watching the Cartoon Network when his phone starts buzzing and is completely unsurprised to see Jared's name on the caller ID.

"Please tell me you're not actually awake on purpose," he says in lieu of the traditional "Hello," and Jared gives what sounds like a startled laugh.

"Hey. Didn't think you'd answer."

"Then why'd you call?"

There's a pause then, followed by Jared releasing a breath as he says, "Bored, I guess."

"So you were gonna waste, what, three minutes harassing my voice mail?"

"Something like that. I figured if I left enough of 'em, you'd eventually call me back. If just to fill me in on the restraining order."

"Dude, you seriously need to find a hobby," Jensen says, but he's smiling despite himself.

Jared's laugh is quiet, restrained by the early hour. "So, why're you up?" he asks.

"Jet-lag," Jensen says, groaning as he stretches his legs out and sinks further into the couch. "It's a bitch."

"Shit, tell me about it. Took me two weeks to get back to normal after China. How was Australia anyway? You eat any of that Vegamite shit?"

They talk for over an hour, until the sun is peeking in through Jensen's window, setting his living room alight in streaks of pale orange. Jared mentions a few of the places he and Sandy had visited in Europe, but really doesn't say much. It's a little disconcerting; Jared's the type to go on and on about everything and nothing when he's in the mood, regardless of whether or or not anyone asks. And he's just as likely to not say a word when he's _not_ in the mood. Though that usually means something's wrong.

But Jared isn't giving Jensen the opportunity to ask, instead wheedling out details of every one of Jensen's Australian interviews. He laughs and gives his condolences and expresses jealousy over a few of the cooler things Jensen had gotten to experience before saying, "Sounds like it wasn't too bad."

Jensen shrugs. "Could've been worse," he says and then, without thinking, adds, "Kinda wish you'd been there."

Jared's quiet for a moment and Jensen immediately wonders if he's overstepped some line. They don't talk about this thing between them, don't bother with shit like 'I love you' and 'I miss you' and Jensen's not about to start now. Not because he wouldn't mean it, but because it's not _them_. And he has no idea how Jared would take it.

His gut tightens as he breathes out a stilted laugh. Says, "I mean, you could've been a buffer for me. You're pretty good at distracting people. Probably comes with being ten feet tall."

Jared laughs, a low rumble through the phone line and Jensen relaxes somewhat.

"We should go sometime," Jared says, his voice quieter. Warmer. "Just you and me. No press shit or interviews. Just go and sight-see or whatever."

Jensen can't help but think of Jared's trip to Europe. The one he's just returned from. Alone with Sandy, on a vacation for just the two of them. No press shit or interviews. Just sight-seeing. He wonders if Jared sees the similarity or if he thinks anything of it at all.

"Yeah," Jensen says finally, shoving aside thoughts of Sandy and of his own girlfriend. Lets himself relish the strange, crazy idea of hope and says, "Yeah, we should."

:::

Tyler's ceiling is bleeding black streamers and sad, limp black balloons and a few people shout in Jensen's direction as he steps inside, cups raised in his honor. Groaning inwardly, he waves back.

"Nice," he says, smirking at the large 'Over the Hill' sign crudely taped to the wall above the couch. "Very classy."

"Nothing but the best for you, buddy," Tyler says, yanking him toward the kitchen. They pass Danneel on the way and she winks at him, giving his hip a slap before resuming her conversation with Steve and Angela. There's a cake in the middle of the kitchen table, the frosting as black as the rest of the decor and a large chunk missing from the upper right corner.

"Got tired of waiting," Tyler explains, thrusting a red plastic cup into Jensen's hand. "Drink up, buddy. Get your thirties off with a bang!"

An hour later and Jensen's halfway to hammered. He stares at the bottom of his third empty cup as someone bumps into him. "What the hell's in this?" he murmurs before he finds himself wrapped up in a crushing hug.

"Dude!"

Two large hands land on his shoulders and push him back. He blinks his eyes into focus, sees Jared's enormous forehead and crater-sized dimples looming in front of him and something twists and warms in his gut, makes his lips stretch in a wide smile.

"You look good," he says, alcohol making his tongue loose.

And it's true. Europe looks amazing on Jared, his skin a golden brown, hair longer and slightly lighter from the sun. There's something in his face that doesn't quite match the happy-go-lucky, carefree guy Jensen's known for years, but it could be that Jensen's just projecting.

Also, he's really drunk.

"You look drunk," Jared says, lips curving into a slow grin and Jensen nods, holds up his cup in explanation.

"Good shit," he says and then shoulders past Jared, adding, "I'm gettin' more. You want some?"

He hears Jared's laughter behind him, warm and booming before there's another hand on his shoulder. "Dude, you're just gonna end up spillin' it all over. I'll do it."

"I'm drunk, not _five_ ," Jensen says, but he lets Jared take his cup and push in front of him, watches the shift of Jared's muscles under the stretch of t-shirt and thinks about later -- not tonight, but maybe in a couple days when Danneel and Sandy and three hundred of Tyler's closest friends aren't around -- when Jared might give him his real birthday present.

:::

"Think Ty's tryin' to poison me," Jensen decides some time later. He's sitting on the floor, back to the wall and legs outstretched. Jared's beside him, his shoulder against Jensen's and legs drawn up so his feet are on the floor, knees forming a peak about four feet off the ground.

"Mmm," Jared agrees, lifting the beer bottle to his lips. "Alcohol poisoning."

"Good way to go, I guess."

"Oh yeah, real hot," Jared agrees after he swallows, his elbow jostling Jensen's arm as he lowers the bottle. "Drownin' in a pool of your own vomit'd be even better."

"It'd make me famous."

Jared snorts. "You're already famous. Sort of."

"I'd get a, uh... an Emmy in my memory. Golden Globe. There'd be biographies. I'd be the next James Dean. A true Hollywood tragedy."

"Nope," Jared says, shoulders brushing again. "Sorry, Heath Ledger just beat you to that one."

Jensen grunts and shakes his head, takes another sip of his beer. Says, "Actually, pretty sure River Phoenix got there first."

"Sandy's pregnant."

It takes a minute for the words to register, Jensen still busy picturing how guilty Tyler will be for accidentally killing a potential American icon. And then he blinks, Tyler's stricken face fading into the carpet as he turns his head.

But Jared's not looking at him. Jared's staring down at the bottle in his hand like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. His face is beet red, the color seeping all the way down his neck and into his shirt and Jensen's not sure if it's from the alcohol or from the weight of what he's just said.

He can't think of a single response, the music from the party pulsing in his ears, in his skull, deafening to the point where it surpasses sound altogether and Jensen can only _feel_ it, harsh and out of sync with the blood pumping through his veins.

"I was gonna--" Jared starts and then stops, breathes in sharply and never once looks up from his lap. "When we got back, I was gonna end it. I swear, man, but she told me in Paris. Over dinner. And I couldn't-- I _can't_ \--"

He looks up, face contorted and Jensen feels like someone's squeezing his lungs from the inside, smothering him slowly.

"Yeah, no, you--" he tries, forcing the words out before giving up.

"She's keeping it," Jared continues. Jensen doesn't want to hear anything else, but he lacks the energy to tell Jared to shut the hell up. Just stares, unseeing at the cup in his hand and the holes in the knees of his jeans. "And I'm-- I mean, I want her to. I want the baby, I just-- Fuck, Jen, I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing, what _we're_ doing. I wasn't expecting this."

Jensen snorts, the sound choked and bitter and when he glances over, Jared's watching him with large, sad eyes. Like he's seven years old and his dog's just died. Or worse. Way worse.

Jensen looks away, looks down at his lap and says, "You'll be a good dad, Jared."

And he knows it's true.

:::

With the writers strike finally over, shooting starts up again on Monday.

The news of Jared's engagement isn't kept a secret for very long and by the end of the week, Jared's confirming the rumors and telling the whole truth, laughing sheepishly at the smirks and teasing jabs thrown his way.

"Well, it's about time," Jim grumbles with a good-natured clap on Jared's shoulder. "Guess it just took somethin' to kick your lazy ass into gear is all."

The guys on the lighting crew start up a Padalecki Diaper Fund, making a show of walking around jiggling coin-filled beer cans plastered with a picture of the creepy crack baby from _Trainspotting_. And Jensen puts on his own show, laughing with the rest of them. He catches Jared watching him sometimes like he's trying to figure out a puzzle, expression stuck between a frown and a smile. Jensen always looks away first.

It's another few weeks before he notices the ring. It's thick and heavy, a brand in gold around Jared's finger and Jensen finds himself relieved whenever Jared's in Sam's skin, neck to toe in loose jeans and baggy shirts and no ring in sight.

:::

The last few weeks of shooting are spent with everyone busting their asses to tie up all the loose ends left ravaged by the strike. It means longer days and rougher nights, but Jensen welcomes it, buries himself in the work and counts down the days until hiatus.

He decides to skip the wrap party, blames it on needing to be in Pittsburgh for his next project, which isn't entirely a lie. He's not needed until the following week, but he wants to get down to LA first, touch base with Danneel and a few of the guys before heading out east.

"I, uh, guess I'll see you in a couple months," Jared says as Jensen climbs out of the SUV for the last time, pulling his keys from his pocket.

"I'll call you," he replies, pasting on a smile that's more for appearances than anything else. "Keep me posted on the kid, alright?"

"Yeah," Jared says, lips creeping into something that's almost a smile. "You, uh... take care."

Jensen feels a weird sense of déjà vu and the realization makes his lips twitch in a near grin. This is every conversation Sam and Dean have ever had and it's even more unbearable when the lines aren't already written for him.

"You, too," Jensen says, biting back the awkward smile as he gives a half-assed salute and turns away.

:::

In some ways, filming a movie in 3D is no different from filming in 2D. In some ways, it's even similar to television, but the cameras are massive and the shots are wider and he has to deal with Kerr pointing out that, "Dude, you get a zit in this flick and it'll be, like, twenty feet high in the theater. Twenty feet high and _bulging_."

It's good, though. A nice break even if he's still working nearly every day, still busting his ass same as he'd done up in Vancouver.

Jared's in Austin filming his own horror film pseudo-remake, albeit one with a significantly larger fan base. He figures Jared's paycheck is bigger than his for that same reason and, under other circumstances, he'd probably gripe about it just for the hell of it. Say something like, " _They're paying you for that pretty face, Jay; just wait until you're old and wrinkly like me. Your asking price goes down_ real _quick then._ "

But these aren't other circumstances and there's no joking around anymore. He tells himself he's glad Jared's making more money, that in a few months, he'll be needing it.

They still send each other the occasional text message, short ones about the weather or the filming conditions or the jackass second PA who acts like he's the best thing to happen to the industry since Tarantino. It isn't until June that he gets a simple _'Call me'_ and decides to do just that.

"Hey!" Jared says after only a few rings. He sounds winded, but happy and Jensen has to fight back all the memories that spring to mind from that alone. "Didn't think you'd actually call."

"Well, it's not like you to be brief. Thought I'd check and make sure no one's died."

Jared laughs, a warm, familiar rumble. Says, "No, it's-- Everything's fine. No deaths."

"Good," Jensen says, letting out a breath as he shifts the phone from one ear to the other. "So, uh. What's up then?"

"Nothin', just, you know... haven't talked in awhile."

It's clear in the way he hesitates, in the weird timber of his voice -- like he's just hovering on the edge of whatever it is he really wants to say -- that Jared's lying. And Jensen hates the fact that he can detect it, hates even more that he's not going to call Jared on it and they'll play this stupid talking-without-talking game until it gets too awkward to avoid.

"Well, we've both been pretty busy."

"Yeah," Jared agrees, quieter. "So, uhm. How's it goin' over there? You work out your marks yet?"

Despite himself, Jensen's lips twitch into a slight smile and he shrugs, folds an arm close across his chest. "Soon as they got the colors switched, I was golden. Asshole. What about you? Put Jason through that wood chipper yet?"

"Oh, dude, I didn't tell you! So, we were doin' this, like, pretty basic stunt, right? Just me getting my head smashed into some candy glass. Except it actually cut me. Got a big ol' gash on my forehead now. Should see it, man, it's pretty hot."

"Aww, you feelin' all hardcore now?"

"I've seriously got, like, tape on my head keepin' all the juices in."

"And by juices, you mean hot air."

"Fuck you," Jared laughs and Jensen has to physically bite back the instinctive retort that nearly slips free. "Seriously, it's a pretty nasty cut. I feel kinda badass."

"Dude, you got a paper cut from a cardboard box once and nearly wept."

"Hey, that shit _hurts_ , man."

"I'm carryin' around a pick axe for this one. Now that could do some damage."

"Maybe if it wasn't made of rubber."

"How 'bout you come out here and I'll test it out on your head."

"How 'bout you come out _here_ and try throwing yourself through a plate of glass."

"Oh, baby, you say the sweetest things." It's out before he can stop it, total instinct, and he immediately winces, tries to cover up the impending uncomfortable silence by adding, "Dude, it's _candy glass_. Man up and deal. 'Least no one's dumping hot wax onto you this time."

Jared laughs, but it's faint and strained and Jensen picks at a crust of dried dirt on the knee of his jeans. "So, uhm. I know you probably don't wanna hear this," Jared says and Jensen squeezes his eyes shut, stomach twisting, "but, uh... I just got the news today and I don't-- look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I fucked up real, real bad, but you're still the best friend I've got and I want-- hell, I just want to _tell_ someone."

Jensen knows instinctively that, whatever it is, he doesn't want to hear it, but he keeps it to himself and sucks in a shaky breath. "Yeah, just-- whatever, man. Just say it."

"It's a boy."

He's quiet, almost whispering. Like he's still not entirely sure he believes it. And, while it's not at all unexpected, Jensen's struck by how _real_ it suddenly feels. Jared's going to be a father. A _dad_. Jared, who's basically just a giant kid himself, who laughs at fart jokes and starts up belching contests on a whim and could happily spend an entire hour making goofy faces at his _dogs_. And now he's gonna have a kid of his own and a _wife_ and Jensen's thirty years old and has a girlfriend he barely ever sees and an apartment he rarely sleeps in.

He runs a hand over his face, stubble scratching his palm as he lets out a breath. "That's-- wow," he says. Clears his throat. "I mean, that's good, right? That's what you want?"

"Yeah, I guess," Jared says, but his tone is just a little lighter. A little more relieved. "I mean, I just want it healthy, but a boy would be awesome."

"And Sandy?"

"Sandy's stoked. Already has a name picked out and everything."

"And you haven't..."

"No one else knows," Jared says and, not for the first time, Jensen's a little irritated that the guy can read him so well, knows what he's thinking even before Jensen does. "I'm gonna tell 'em pretty soon, but I just... I dunno. Wanted you to know."

Jensen almost wants to ask why, but he's afraid of how it'll come out.

"Well, congrats," he manages, keeping his voice low and as sincere-sounding as he can possibly make it. "I'll, uh... look, they're setting up my next scene, I gotta--"

"Yeah, 'course," Jared says, cutting him off with a rush of words. "Thanks for-- I'll talk to you later, 'kay? Careful with that pick axe."

Jensen tries for a laugh, but it come out forced and he winces as he says, "Yeah. Careful with that candy glass."

He ends the call before Jared can say goodbye.

:::

He leaves Pittsburgh only a few days before needing to be in Vancouver. In the interim, he heads to LA to check in on his apartment, spends a night or two there with Danneel.

"Saw Sandy and Jared about a week ago," she tells him over dinner, her foot linking around his ankle under the table. "She looks about ready to pop already, poor thing. Beautiful, though. Almost makes me hate her a little."

Jensen snorts a laugh. He finds the act easier around his girlfriend and he's fairly sure there's a sick reasoning behind that he doesn't want to look at too closely. "Sure you won't still feel that way in a couple months."

"Mmm," Danneel says, spears a carrot with her fork and shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, I don't think I really want a kid right _now_ , but it's something I think about. I'd make a good mom. Don't you think I'd make a good mom?"

Jensen glances up, one eyebrow arched and Danneel cocks her head, teasing grin curving her lips. "Uh. Yeah?" he says for lack of anything better.

Danneel's smile only widens and she leans in, elbows rested on the table. "I want a little girl, though. Or maybe twins. My cousin in Louisiana has twins, a boy and a girl. Kaitlin and Caleb, I've told you about them before. They're about as different as anything, but best friends and absolutely adorable together. I want that. Hard work maybe, but worth it.

"Hmm," Jensen says, brow furrowed as Danneel smiles at him.

"What about you?" she asks, wrapping her fingers around her water glass as she bumps her foot against his ankle. "Don't you think about it?"

Jensen's frown deepens, a slow worry coiling low in his gut. Because, sure, he's thought about it once or twice. Hard not to with his brother already spawning and his mother constantly clamoring for more grandkids. Hard not to with Jared, his co-star and best friend and whatever-else-he-used-to-be only months away from becoming a dad.

"Yeah, I've--" he starts and then he notices the glint of mischief in Danneel's eyes and lets out a breath. "You're totally fucking with me right now, aren't you?"

Danneel's head falls back as she laughs, bright and heartfelt and beautiful. "Oh. Baby," she says between laughs. "The look on your _face_!"

:::

Vancouver is a little like home. It's not Dallas and it's not LA, but it's comfortable and familiar and even the nearly constant cloud cover is something Jensen's grown to almost enjoy.

There's a different energy on set this time around, a stronger momentum borne not of desperation so much as a desire to live up to network expectations. There's still no guarantee of a fifth season, but with Dean just freed from Hell and Sam busy keeping secrets, the impending climax is clear to everyone. Each episode seems to push Sam and Dean closer to the breaking point and it isn't until September that Jensen begins to wonder how much of it has always been a part of Kripke's grand plan, how much is due to the strike and how much is playing off the recent on-set dynamic between himself and Jared. It's not as though the writers are up north all that often to observe, but he knows the directors report back, knows there really is no such thing as a secret on a production crew.

No one outright says anything, but it's easy to sense. Jared's on set less and less, flying down to LA to be with Sandy whenever possible, filming all his scenes in chunks, forcing more of the focus onto Dean. On the days he is there, he and Jensen film their scenes easily enough, rehearse together and do everything just as they'd always done. They still laugh and joke around with the crew, but it's not like it used to be, not carefree and easy and fun. Everything's shifted slightly to the left, skewed just enough to be noticeable.

Sometimes it almost seems comfortable. Jensen starts re-shaping and re-defining Jared's role in his life, finds a way for the pieces to fit again even if the resulting formation is a little different. But then Jared will say something or do something or just smile in a particular way and the whole thing gets shot to hell all over again.

"Hey," Jared will say after the final cut of the day, the crew swooping in to pack up for the night. "Wanna go out for a beer or somethin'?"

They'll still be in costume, fake blood caked on their skin, both sore and tired from another long day and it'll take every bit of strength Jensen has to say, "Man, I'd love to, but I'm fuckin' beat. Later, though. Later."

There's never a later. And he knows Jared doesn't really expect one.

:::

In August, Jared sells his house. For all of about ten seconds, Jensen actually considers buying it from him, but then realizes he has no idea what he'd do with three spare bedrooms and a truckload of weighted memories.

Luckily, Jared manages to get rid of the place fairly quickly, though Jensen doesn't have it in him to ask at what price.

The dogs have been staying with Sandy down in LA, so Jared starts living out of the Sheraton, sends most of his stuff -- his overly large bed and couch, his X-Box and four boxes of DVDs, his stupid bear-shaped coffee table -- back down the coast.

Jensen helps load the truck, tries not to think about the last time they'd been in this situation, tired and worn from a day of lifting heavy boxes. It hasn't even been a year, but it feels like a decade. Longer.

When they've finished, Jared says, "Hey, thanks for the help."

They're both tired and sweaty and Jared has his hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail, a few hairs dangling free, damp and clinging to the sides of his face.

Jensen wipes the sweat from his chin with the bottom of his shirt and shrugs. "What're friends for, right?"

And Jared answers with a quiet breath of a laugh that doesn't sound anywhere close to genuine.

:::

It's another 6:00 a.m. call time and Jensen's half asleep in the make-up chair, head tipped back as Jeannie works the gel into his hair, spiking it to perfection. Except for the fact that he has to be mostly conscious, this is one of his favorite parts of the day: Jeannie massaging his scalp with gentle, firm fingers while the radio plays quietly in the background. No one around to yell at him or shove him into place. It's a nice reprieve before what will doubtlessly be a hectic day.

The sound of his own contented groan is drowned out by Jared's buzzing cell phone and he cracks an eye open, watching as Jared wrestles it out of his hip holder. Jared's been understandably edgy for the past week, jumping at the sound of _anyone's_ phone ringing and always going just a little pale when it's his own.

"Hey," he says, voice low. Shannon reaches over to turn down the stereo and the trailer falls into near silence before Jared says, "Shit. Yeah, I'll-- okay. Okay. Right. Yeah, I'm on my way."

He closes his phone and looks up, eyes wide as they lock onto Jensen's.

"That was Rita," he says, sounding shaken. Stunned. "Sandy's water broke."

He still hasn't moved, Shannon's fingers resting low on his neck before she smooths them down over his shoulders and he just stares at Jensen, like he's waiting for confirmation. Like Jensen has to be the one to tell him what to do.

But Jensen doesn't say a word, just stares right back as Jeannie's fingertips skim over his ears.

And then Jared blinks and jumps to his feet, nearly knocking over one of the make-up trays in the process. "Fuck, I have to-- I gotta get down there."

Seconds later, the entire set is in chaos. Jared runs to his trailer to grab his passport and visa and, when he steps out again, he's struggling into one of Sam's hoodies while talking hurriedly on his phone. He's completely focused, tense all over as one of the teamsters grabs him by the elbow and pushes him into a waiting car.

Singer gets on the phone with Kripke while two of the PAs run around, furiously readjusting the schedule, one of them pleading with someone over the phone about bringing up a guest star on the next available flight.

They manage to get in a handful of coverage shots, using one of the larger lighting guys as Jared's stand-in so the day doesn't turn out to be a total wash.

At around midnight, Singer shouts, "Hey, people, listen up!" Jensen's sitting in a chair a few feet away, killing time on his PSP as they redress the set. He glances up to see Singer standing tall on a chair, arms lifted to get everyone's attention and his smile wide and bright as he says, "Looks like we just got a new member to the _Supernatural_ family!"

:::

They get all the details the next day.

Jackson Oliver Padalecki, born at 10:27 p.m. on September 26th, 2008, is eight pounds, two ounces and twenty-one inches from head to foot. He has ten fingers and ten toes and a full head of dark hair and he's completely and totally healthy.

The e-mail includes about a dozen pictures. Most are of the baby, close up shots from Jared's camera phone of his weary, sleeping face, body wrapped in a tiny white hospital blanket. Some are of Sandy, her cheeks flushed red and dark hair matted as she holds her son close, smiling with all the energy she can muster.

There's only one of Jared. Little Jackson is cradled in the crook of his arm and Jared's holding the phone at a weird angle so all that's really visible is his upper chest and bright, proud smile as Jackson sleeps against him.

Jensen saves that one.

:::

Jared's back on set a few days later, looking exhausted, but happy. He spends the first several hours passing around more pictures, beaming under the praise and congratulations.

Jim takes one of the pictures and turns it this way and that, cocks his head and holds it upside down.

"Well, he's got a good amount'a hair," he says, turning the picture once more. "Still looks like Winston Churchill, though."

Jared snorts a laugh and snatches the picture back. "Your face looks like Winston Churchill," he says, fighting a smile.

Jim arches an amused eyebrow. "Just better hope the kid gets his looks from his mama, that's all I'm sayin'."

They're still squeezing in some of Jared's coverage when Jensen gets the okay to go. He stops by Jared's trailer on his way out, leaves a bottle of champagne and a single cigar wrapped with a blue ribbon. Doesn't bother leaving a note with it.

:::

The schedule changes indefinitely after that, and the writing with it. Jared's in LA three to four days a week and the writing team shifts gears accordingly, putting more of the focus on Dean while pushing the brothers further and further apart. It works for the storyline, for whatever mad arc Kripke has in mind, but Jensen can't help missing what the show used to be. And, judging by the fan reaction, he's not the only one.

When they hit the winter hiatus, it's more of a relief than ever before and Jensen catches the first possible flight down to LA.

"You look tired," Danneel says when she meets him at the airport, brushing her fingers through his hair and kissing his jaw.

They spend the weekend together, relaxing in his apartment with the Cowboys game on too loud. Danneel cooks ham and Jensen misses his grandmother's mashed potatoes and they watch a marathon of Michael Caine movies before spending a good few hours in bed.

"Come with me for Christmas," he says later with Danneel curled up close, their legs tangled.

Danneel shifts against him, rests her chin on his chest. "To Dallas?"

He runs a hand up her bare back, fingers dipped into the smooth cleft of her spine and nods. "To Dallas."

She looks confused for a moment, but then smiles, slides a hand down his side as she shifts closer. "Yeah, okay."

:::

Jared calls only once before he and Danneel leave.

" _Hey, man. Sorry I haven't called to check in on you much lately. Shit's been crazy over here; I know you understand. Anyway, hope you're doin' good. Me and Sandy are takin' Jack down to San Antonio for Christmas. Think my mama's gonna lose her nut if she doesn't get to meet him soon. Tell Danny hi for me. Later._ "

Jensen thinks about calling him back, thumb hovering over the button for a solid ten seconds before Danneel peeks her head in from the other room. Says, "Hey, have you seen that script I was reading earlier? I want to pack it, but I can't find it anywhere."

He blinks and looks back over his shoulder, takes a second to decipher what she's said before quirking a smile and shaking his head. "No. Nope, haven't seen it," he says before pocketing his phone and helping her look.

:::

Shooting starts up again shortly after the New Year, just a few days before Jensen's movie is set to premiere in LA. Everyone spends the first week catching up, sharing stories and pictures of their holiday, gloating over presents given and received. Per usual, Jared's right in the middle of it, passing around pictures and talking loudly about his family's reaction to Jack.

And Jensen notices for the first time that it's getting easier, that at some point in the past few months he's figured out how to live with this. Things are different, yes, but they aren't broken. Whatever they could've been doesn't matter anymore; Jared's a dad and will soon be a husband and he's _happy_. Maybe happier than Jensen's ever seen him and _that's_ what matters.

A week later, Sandy and Jack visit the set. Jack's quieter than Jensen had expected and cuter, tucked up close to his father's chest as people crowd around to meet him, cooing and awwing.

Sandy stands apart from the crowd, looking worn, but just as beautiful as always and Jensen wanders over.

"How you feelin'?" he asks and she gives him a small, quiet smile.

"Tired," she admits, her eyes never leaving Jared and the baby. " _Good_ , but really tired. Turns out this mother thing is pretty hard work."

Jensen quirks a smile and slips his hands into his pockets. He's never really been jealous of Sandy. Not exactly. Because Sandy's always been there, a presence in Jared's life that Jensen knew and accepted from the beginning. And he _likes_ her, honestly and completely. Whatever he feels for Jared -- or _felt_ for Jared -- is unrelated. Separate. Always has been if only for his own sanity.

As much as he may have selfishly wanted something else, he's never hated Sandy. Never wished her gone. Jensen's always assumed that Jared feels the same about Danneel; it's just part of the deal.

"Bet it's not easy with him goin' back and forth all the time," Jensen says, grimacing somewhat in sympathy.

Sandy shrugs. "It is what it is," she says. She glances over at him. "I mean, yeah, it's hard, but I know he's doing what he can. It's great when he's home; he really does a lot for me and Jack, but he can't stop doing what he loves, you know? That wouldn't be fair. And... well, I know it won't be like this forever." She pauses then, pulls in a slow breath and tugs her coat tighter around herself. "We'll be okay."

There's something in her tone that makes Jensen wonder, but he doesn't know her like he does Jared. Can't tell if she's just exhausted or if there really is something she isn't saying. She turns to look at him, gives him a soft smile as he wraps an arm over her shoulders, tucks her in close.

"You'll be okay," he agrees and feels her hold on a little tighter.

:::

 _My Bloody Valentine_ is met with mostly lukewarm reviews, but Jensen isn't bothered. Jared reads a few of the better ones out loud during their breaks, his voice muted behind a heavy black gas mask he'd managed to bribe from Tanya, the props manager. Jensen's a little scared to ask just exactly where _she'd_ gotten it.

"We should go see it this weekend," Jared says later, mask propped on the crown of his head and cheeks tinged pink with the winter cold.

Jensen frowns. "Aren't you going home this weekend?"

"Rita's going over," Jared says, tone shifting even if his smile doesn't waver any. "Sandy thinks a break'll do me some good and all the flights are starting to add up anyway."

Jensen hesitates, strangely dubious of the explanation, though he can't say exactly why. But Jared's smiling at him, all wide and hopeful and Jensen gives in. "Okay, sure."

They go out that Saturday to a late showing, sneaking in just as the last preview finishes. Jensen adjusts the glasses on his face, the tips digging into the skin above his ears and Jared's elbow bumps against his own. It's different from watching it at the premiere, the audience far more genuine in their reactions and even Jared jumps a couple times, his knee bumping against Jensen's.

"That was pretty killer, man," he says afterward. "You do crazy-psycho really well."

Jensen snorts as they hurry back to the car. They'd been recognized on the way out, but luckily no one had been obnoxious or creepy and Jensen's afraid of pushing their luck if they hang around too long.

"No, really," Jared says as he climbs into the car. "Think you might've missed your calling, man."

Starting the ignition, Jensen glances over, a good, ' _Who says I've missed it?_ ' on the tip of his tongue. But Jared's not looking at him. Jared's staring out the side window, the backs of his fingers grazing the cold glass and Jensen notices the strained curve to his lips for the first time, the way the skin stretches across his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes.

It's jarring and weirdly heartbreaking and Jensen reaches over without thinking, knocks Jared's leg with his fist and says, "Let's go get us some beers, what'd'ya say?"

Jared looks startled for a moment, eyes trained downward even after Jensen pulls back to put the car in reverse.

But then he's smiling, slow and warm, and Jensen wonders if maybe _this_ is actually the happiest he's ever seen Jared. Right here, in his car, minutes after seeing a bad 3D horror movie.

Or maybe he really has no idea anymore.

"Fuck, yeah," Jared breathes, relief flooding his voice. And Jensen punches the car into drive and ignores the heavy thud of his own heartbeat.

:::

Jared's movie premieres a couple weeks later at Grauman's. He sends Jensen a picture taken on his phone of his gigantic feet next to Harrison Ford's imprint with the text, ' _Bigger than Han Solo, bitch!_ ' to which Jensen replies, ' _You of all people should know bigger don't mean better_ '. When Jared replies with ' _You of all people should know you can suck my dick_ ' Jensen knows better than to reply.

As expected, the movie makes a killing the weekend of its release and by Wednesday, Jared's gotten a call from his agent.

"They're already wondering if I'd want to do another one," he tells Jensen, staring down at his phone.

Jensen glances up from his script. "Dude, didn't you _die_?"

"What? No! I beat him to death with a catfish and then swam to safety."

Jensen smirks as he sits back, pulls his ankle up onto his knee. "So you gonna do it?"

"Dunno," Jared says, flipping his phone shut. "Think I should?"

"Dude, I'm about the last person who should be giving you career advice. What's Jason say?"

"Says it's too early to tell."

"Well, there you go," Jensen says, but Jared doesn't look convinced so he adds, "Seriously, man. Just chill for awhile. Got enough to be worrying about anyway, right? Wife and kid and all that."

Jared frowns, brow furrowing and says, "She's not my wife." It sounds bizarrely defensive and Jensen just stares before Jared seems to realize what he's said and backpedals. "I mean-- Dude, let me enjoy my last, like, three months of freedom, alright?"

It's a sad attempt at humor and they both know it. Jensen just glances down at the gold band around Jared's finger and snorts. "Yeah, okay."

:::

The show's ratings have been dropping steadily since hiatus and by the end of March the mood on set is tense with worry. A few of the camera guys organize a party in an attempt to lift spirits, though they cleverly describe it as a greatly belated birthday celebration for all cast and crew members past and present.

Jensen basically gets guilted into going, but after three hours, a couple beers and a good shot or two of whiskey, he admits to being happy to be there. And not just because witnessing Singer try his hand at karaoke is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Jared makes his typical loud entrance shortly before midnight, arms high in the air and smile wide. There's something about it that seems forced to Jensen, like Jared's trying too hard where he's never really had to try at all.

"Hey," Jensen says, wandering over a few minutes later to push a bottle of Heineken into Jared's hand. "Didn't think you were gonna show."

"Wasn't," Jared admits, tipping the bottle with a nod before taking a swig. "Was supposed to catch a flight down to LA." Jensen arches an eyebrow and Jared shrugs. "Didn't work out."

"Uh-huh," Jensen says, eying Jared. But the topic is clearly not open to discussion as Jared glances up and waves at someone across the room and then says, "Be right back," before squeezing past.

Jensen gets roped into a game of pool with Jerry that he soundly loses, much to the amusement of everyone watching and, about an hour later, he's ready to head back to his apartment. The party is still largely in full swing and he pushes his way to the back bedroom to dig through the pile of coats on the bed.

"Need a ride?"

Jared's voice is low and instantly recognizable and Jensen nearly jumps out of is skin as he whirls around. Jared's leaning against the door frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his cheeks flushed a faint red -- either from the heat of the party or the alcohol, Jensen figures -- and he smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. Wasn't tryin' to scare you."

Jensen shrugs it off as goes back to looking for his coat. "Got a cab comin'," he lies when he finds it, slips his arms into the sleeves. "Thanks for the offer, though. Drunky."

"It's kinda early yet."

"Yeah, well. Guess I'm gettin' old."

Jared smirks. "You've always been old." It's a familiar jibe, tried and true and Jared's smile is warm, teasing in a way it hasn't been for a long time.

Jensen tries for his own smile, manages a faint twitch of his lips and says, "I'm a fine wine, Padalecki. Only gettin' better with age."

Jared's expression shifts then, slips from warm and friendly to something darker, his gaze dropping and flaying Jensen wide open in an instant.

"Yeah," he says, voice rough and Jensen stares at the roll of Jared's Adam's apple. "God, yeah, you--"

A loud burst of laughter from the down the hall stops him short and Jensen feels suddenly outside himself as Jared closes the door and leans back against it, putting up the blockade between them and the rest of the world.

The look on his face is one Jensen's only ever seen a few times. Desperate and stubborn and somehow resigned, too. Like he's finally been pushed just that little bit too far and the only thing left to do is fight. It'd been there when Jared had found out about Harley needing to go in for another surgery on his hip and when Jared's sister had called, crying about her asshole of an ex-boyfriend.

Jensen sighs and steps forward, wanting to do _something_ to take that look of Jared's face. "Jared, c'mon, I really--"

"I think I'm in love with you."

Jared's voice is utterly calm. Clear and firm. It steals every last breath from Jensen's lungs and takes the rest of his world with it.

And Jared doesn't look much better. He's still leaning against the door, shoulders hunched forward, like he's physically incapable of carrying his own weight.

"You're drunk," Jensen says.

Jared snorts. "Yeah. I guess. But that's--"

" _You're drunk_ ," Jensen says again. Supplying a reason. The _only_ reason for the words coming out of Jared's mouth.

"Not _that_ drunk. I know what I'm saying, Jensen. I know what I--"

"No, you don't," Jensen says, eating up some of the space between them in two strides. The initial shock has started to fade, an angry burn rolling in to take its place and Jensen clings to it, lets it buoy him.

Jared opens his mouth to argue, but Jensen doesn't let him get in a word. "No, you _don't_ , Jared! Look, I get it, you're freaking out right now. I get that. You're two months away from committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life and it's fucking _terrifying_. But if you were thinking straight right now, you'd know you already did that a year ago."

"It was a _mistake_! Fuck, I don't--" Jared says quickly, cheeks flushing darker, though he doesn't move from the door. "I _love_ my kid, Jen. I do. More than I ever thought I could love another human being, but it was still a _mistake_. Jesus. It wasn't supposed to happen, I'm not supposed to be getting fucking _married!_ "

" _Bullshit_ , Jared. That's fucking bullshit!"

Jared stares at him, unblinking and Jensen's suddenly so pissed off, he's literally shaking with it. One more step and he's in Jared's personal space as Jared crowds back against the door.

He drops his voice, struggling to keep calm as he says, "I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life, Jared. That's not my job. But as your _friend_ , I can tell you you're full of shit. You love your son and you love the woman who gave birth to him and if you don't marry her like you've already _promised_ , you're gonna regret it for the rest of your goddamn life!"

"She's not--"

"God, _shut up_ ," Jensen cuts in, pressing a finger hard against Jared's chest. He feels Jared tense, warm skin beneath the thin stretch of cotton. "Maybe you didn't plan to get her pregnant, Jay, but it happened. Okay? You can't take that back. _You_ made the choice to keep her around, to keep fucking her and I _know_ \--"

"Oh, because you weren't fucking Danneel the whole time!"

"At least I knew how to _use a goddamn condom_!"

It's a low blow. Undeserved. And Jensen knows it. Jared's eyes grow darker and his lips twitch in a sneer. He moves quickly, too quick for Jensen to react, large hands suddenly grabbing Jensen's face as warm, parted lips crash down onto him, teeth scraping his bottom lip. Shutting his eyes tight, Jensen gets a hand between them and _shoves_.

But Jared's expecting it and he gets an arm around Jensen, holding him as Jensen twists his head away, feels Jared's breath hot against his neck and tries to fight his body's instinctive reaction to Jared's scent and skin.

"Jensen, please," Jared says, his lips brushing Jensen's neck as he whispers it. "Man, you gotta-- I know I'm an asshole, I know I've totally fucked this all up, but _please_."

"Jared--"

" _No_ ," Jared growls, turning Jensen's head with his free hand as Jensen snarls and pushes back. "Jensen, just--"

It's Jared's tone, aching and desperate, that makes Jensen stop fighting, though he doesn't relax at all, nerves and muscles drawn tight, ready to lash out at any moment. Jared's hand is still warm on his neck and his lips ghost over Jensen's cheek. Jensen thinks Jared might be shaking, but honestly can't tell if it's that or Jensen's own rage boiling hot under his skin.

"Just tell me," Jared says, still whispering. When he inhales, harsh and ragged, Jensen can feel the shudder of Jared's chest against his own. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll--"

Jensen doesn't let him finish, wrenching himself free and taking a swing, his knuckles colliding with Jared's jaw with a sickening crack. Jared buckles under the hit, hair falling loose over his eyes as he hunches forward and Jensen grabs him by the front of his shirt and presses him back up against the door.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ put this on me!"

Jared manages to get his arms up between them, pushing at Jensen weakly, his face crumbling as his fingers curl around the fabric of Jensen's coat.

"Please," he says again. He sounds shattered, shredded from the inside and Jensen pretends it's not hurting him just as much. "I know you feel it, Jen. Fuck, I _know_ , just--"

He grabs Jared's hand, stilling it and shoving away. "I don't want you," he says, the words clear and frigid. It takes everything in him to not gag on them, to not take them back and swallow them down for good, keep them heavy as lead inside him.

But he's nothing if not an actor and he's _damn_ good at improvising.

"You hear me, Jared? Is it clear enough for you yet?" He pulls in a breath and squares his shoulders. " _I. don't. want. you._ "

Jared reels like he's been hit again, mouth gaping and eyes red. And Jensen almost caves, almost bends and breaks right there, but Jared saves them both by shoving him away with shaking arms.

"Yeah," he says, voice hoarse as he fumbles with the door knob. Pulsing music and peals of laughter flood the room as the door swings open and Jared glances back only once. Jensen keeps utterly still and Jared says, "Yeah, Jen. Got it loud and clear," his voice barely audible against the screaming background noise.

Jensen stares at the empty doorway long after Jared's disappeared.

:::

On his last day of filming, Jared finishes in time to catch a flight back to LA early the next morning.

"So, I'll, uhm. You're comin' to the wedding, right?" he says, looking small as he brushes the hair from his eyes.

Jensen finds it surprisingly easy to fake a smile and nods. Says, "'Course. Wouldn't miss it."

The last scene Jensen films is actually one of the first in the episode, a substantial piece between Dean and Bobby and they get through the wide shots in eight takes before starting in on Jim's coverage.

It's nearly light out when they finally finish, the rising sun painting the sky a muted purple. Kripke's made sure to tie up most of the loose ends in this one, leaving just a few hanging free in case of a miracle renewal.

"We had a damn good run," Gene says, holding out a cup of coffee that Jensen takes with cold, grateful hands. "Better than any of us expected, I think."

Jensen grunts his agreement, hot liquid warming his mouth and throat before he pulls in a breath. It's not the first time Jensen's witnessed the end of a series and he's sure it won't be his last, but it feels different, feels weighted and _wrong_ in a way he can't explain.

In the distance, he can hear the crew packing up for the last time, voices muddled in the cool air. The familiar laughter and rude jokes are noticeably absent, nothing but the rough shout here and there, a clang of metal boxes closing as wheels scrape across asphalt.

"You got anything lined up?" Gene asks him after a few silent moments.

Jensen glances over, biting his lips and shaking his head. It's not entirely honest as he already has a few lines out waiting for a bite, but he isn't quite ready yet to think about whatever comes next. Isn't ready to just let go.

"Yeah, me either," Gene says with a knowing smile. He claps a warm hand on Jensen's shoulder. Says, "But hey. We'll always have Vancouver, right?"

:::

The wedding is held just outside San Antonio, on a small lake surrounded by lush weeping willows. A winding deck leads out to a white gazebo in the center of the lake where the tiny wedding party and select guests stand during the ceremony. Jackson's dressed in a tiny tuxedo-patterned onesie and he sleeps through the entire thing, seemingly content and comfortable in his grandmother's arms.

Jensen and Danneel stand with the rest of the guests on the shore, barely hearing the preacher across the water as he gives the sermon, though Jensen can make out Jared's voice loud and clear during the vows.

"I do," Jared says and Danneel squeezes Jensen's hand, runs her thumb along the bump of his knuckle.

The reception is teeming with Jared's enormous family along with about every single person he's met since birth, not to mention a few members of Sandy's friends and extended family. Some of the Vancouver crew are there too, and Jensen spends most of his time catching up with them, listens to Gene talk about his wife's promotion and Brenda's possible plans to move in with her boyfriend in New York and Kim's gripes about the newest show he's been hired to guest direct.

"Cast's full of fuckin' pussies," Kim mumbles while nursing a gin and tonic.

Jensen can't help but smirk. "Should be used to that by now."

"Mmm," Kim says, shaking his head. "Gave you and Jared a lotta shit through the years, but at least you two never complained about doing your goddamn _job_."

Jensen knows it's Kim's way of saying he misses the show, misses Jared and Jensen, regardless of all the shit they'd pulled. He grins a little and wraps an arm over Kim's bony shoulders, hugs him in tight. "Guess they can't all be as awesome as us."

Kim grumbles and elbows Jensen in the side, takes another sip of his drink, but notably doesn't argue.

It isn't until after the speeches and dinner and cake and first dance that Jensen finally gets a minute with the bride. Sandy looks exhilarated and happy, strands of dark hair falling free from the glittering clips high in her hair, skin shimmering with a faint sheen of sweat and skirt hiked high as she walks, barefoot, off the dance floor.

"Hey, you!" she says, her tiny hand wrapping around his, using him for support as the band breaks into a Spice Girls song Jensen hasn't heard in about a decade. Sandy dances in place, smiling and swaying to the rhythm as she tugs on Jensen's hand.

"You look gorgeous," Jensen says, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard. He means it completely and Sandy only smiles brighter, pushes up to tip-toe to kiss him on the cheek before dragging him onto the dance floor.

Spice Girls melts into Backstreet Boys into Kanye West and Jensen's about to throw in the white flag when the band finally settles into a slow song and Sandy curls into him, resting her head on his chest. He wonders why it doesn't feel as weird as it probably should.

They sway to Eric Clapton's low, soothing voice and Jensen glances across the floor to spot Danneel watching them. He waves at her and she waves back, smiling as she mouths something he can't quite make out. She's wearing a yellow summer dress and her hair's down, falling in waves over her tanned shoulders. She's stunningly beautiful as always and Jensen tries to imagine her in white, in a dress just like Sandy's that trails to the floor, tries to imagine a ring on her finger, one with a big diamond to complement the gold band he'd have on his own.

He tries, but the image keeps coming out fuzzy and indistinct.

The song winds to a close and Sandy pulls back, smiling sweetly as she squeezes his hand, her gaze briefly flickering to a point just beyond Jensen's shoulder.

"Already stealin' my girl, Ackles?"

Jensen glances back to see Jared hovering just behind him. His suit jacket's long gone and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, bowtie hanging loose around his neck. There's a line of sweat trailing down the side of his face, darkening the sideburns and making the ends of his hair curl.

"Just gettin' in one last hurrah," Jensen says, barely missing a beat, though he can't help the way his gaze trips over the stretch of fabric across Jared's shoulders.

Jared answers with a smile, tired and forced, and Jensen gets the weird feeling that Jared wants to touch him, just clap a hand on his shoulder and pull him into a hug. But he doesn't and neither does Jensen. Just holds out his hand and says, "Congratulations, man."

When Jared's fingers curl over his own, it feels like a goodbye.

:::

Danneel moves in a month later and Jensen buys a bigger bed, makes room in the bathroom for her million and one beauty products and clears out space in the pantry for her cans of mushroom soup and enormous box of Rice Krispies. They spend a night tossing out all the duplicate DVDs between them, keeping Danneel's Kevin Smith collection and Jensen's _Lord of the Rings_ , and it doesn't feel like a big step at all, doesn't really feel much different from moving in with a friend except for the part where he gets laid a lot more often.

He misses Vancouver in a way he'd never anticipated, finds himself waking up early and wondering why it's not raining, why there's no car waiting for him out front, why the coffee doesn't taste quite right. He talks to his agent almost daily and reads everything she sends his way, keeps up on the projects Eric and John have going, keeps an ear open for anything that might fit him.

In July, he gets a call from Jared while stuck in traffic. They've barely spoken since the wedding, though Jensen chalks that up to them both being busy and convinces himself he's not disappointed. When they do talk, the conversation usually feels awkward and stilted, like they're both just trying to delay the inevitable. Because they still live in the same city, but it's not like before. In Vancouver, their lives had been wound together, their own pocket of existence. In LA, they could live right next door and still never see each other.

"So I landed another TV gig," Jared tells him.

Jensen eases back in his seat and lets his truck coast forward, inching along the freeway. "Yeah?"

"Not as a regular or anything, but it's still good. Paycheck, you know? Just this guest role on _Southland_. Dirty cop with a shady past."

Jensen knows the part; it's one of a handful he'd been offered before deciding he wanted to steer clear of television for awhile. Somehow it hadn't occurred to him at the time that Jared would be getting the same offer.

"Hey, that's great!" Jensen says, swallowing back a twist of discomfort as he taps his thumb on the steering wheel. "Seriously. Congrats, man."

Jared's quiet laugh sounds a lot like relief. "So, listen," he says and Jensen feels his stomach tighten in sinking anticipation because he knows what comes next. "We should really get together sometime. Maybe go see a Dodgers game or somethin'."

"Yeah, absolutely," Jensen replies.

"Awesome," Jared says and Jensen can so clearly picture the smile on his face, wonders briefly if he'll ever actually see it again.

There's a shrill sound in the background on Jared's end and Jensen slides his truck into neutral as the traffic slows. "Sounds like you've got your hands full," he says when there's another clatter.

"Yeah, man, this kid's somethin' else, I'll tell ya," Jared says, his voice briefly muffled. "Shit," he adds and then there's another clatter accompanied by a high-pitched squeal. "Hey, can I call you back later?"

Jensen chuckles and ignores the swell of relief as he says, "Yeah, man. 'Course. I'll speak at you later."

"Thanks, Jensen. Good talkin' to you."

It's three weeks before Jared calls him back. Jensen gets the voicemail after his plane arrives in New York, listens to it twice in the cab to his hotel before deleting it.

:::

"Still waiting on a picture," Danneel says, her voice teasing.

Jensen groans as he rubs a hand over his face. "There something you wanna tell me? Never knew you were so into spandex."

"Never knew I'd have a superhero for a boyfriend."

"Yeah, well you and me both."

"Come on, Jensen," Danneel prods, putting on her best whine, the one Jensen can never say no to. "Just one picture. Don't make me hire someone from TMZ to stalk the set. I can promise that just won't be flattering."

Jensen's willing to bet money TMZ has already wormed their way in somehow and says, "Danny..."

" _One_ picture," she says again. "I promise I'll destroy it after I've looked at it, okay? And after I put it up on Facebook."

"I will kill you."

"And Twitter."

" _Danny_..."

"Jesus, Jensen, everyone in the _world_ is going to be looking at your spandex-covered ass in a year. As your girlfriend, I should at least get dibs."

Jensen laughs despite himself, a slow heat crawling up his neck. "Alright, fine," he sighs, hiding a smile as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Phil helps him take the picture a week later, razzing him the entire time with, "Just look at me over your shoulder. No a little-- yeah, like that. Work it, girl, work it!" and "Okay, now just pout your lips. No, more like-- yeah, just like that. And stick out that fine ass. C'mon, give it to me, Beautiful!"

In the end, he has about three shots that don't make him look like a complete idiot and Danneel calls him later that night, her laughter ringing clear as he answers.

"No, really," she says once she's calmed down enough to form sentences. "It's hot. You got the body for it, babe, that's for sure. Even with the bowlegs."

"Great, thanks," he says, rolling his eyes as he sinks deeper into his couch. "You've already forwarded it to everyone you know, haven't you?"

"Not everyone. Figured some people can just wait like the rest of the world."

"So thoughtful."

"Mm-mm. Selfish. Hey, have you called Jared?"

"Why would I call Jared?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because he's your best friend and you two used to be practically inseparable?" Danneel says and Jensen frowns, feels a worrisome itch under his skin that he refuses to scratch. "Also, maybe because his kid's birthday is in two days."

"Oh," Jensen says. "Shit."

Danneel snorts a laugh. "You're such an asshole sometimes."

"I love you, too," Jensen says, but he doesn't argue the point. It's not untrue.

He calls Jared the next day and is relieved when it goes to voicemail. He buys a card at the nearest grocery store and sticks in a crisp one hundred dollar bill, leaves a note that it's for Jackson and not Jared's sick candy addiction.

Two weeks later he gets a thank you card in Sandy's neat, clear handwriting and a wallet-sized picture of the happy family. It looks more personal and intimate than a Sears studio picture, but the idea's the same, the carefully constructed image of a disgustingly beautiful young family.

He puts it on his fridge, stuck beneath a clunky Mavs magnet, the large orange basketball covering Jared's face.

:::

Both he and Danneel get a break for Christmas and they spend a week out at her parents' place, relaxing and drinking and eating too much. It's comfortable, a much-needed break from the long hours of shooting, stunt choreography and squeezing into blue and red tights. They spend their evenings playing Monopoly and poker and Trivial Pursuit and Jensen gets into a good-natured argument with Danneel's brother over whether Jason Garrett will be a better head coach than Sean Payton.

The day before they're set to leave, Danneel's mom corners him in the kitchen where Jensen's stealing another slice of pie.

"Jensen," she says, voice quiet as she crowds in close, smiling warmly with her hand on his arm. "Honey, can I ask you something?" Jensen glances down at her hand and then at the pie, arches an eyebrow as she regards him with a tilt of her head. "Elta's never going to ask you, but I need to know. As her mother. You understand."

He tries for his best, most charming smile. "Of course."

"How long have you been dating my daughter now? Three years? Four?"

"Three," Jensen says, struggling to keep the smile as Danneel's mom only makes a quiet sound of acknowledgment.

"And have you two talked at all about the future?"

Jensen laughs then, a soft, surprised sound as a slow heat works up his neck. He's had this conversation before with his own mother, but it feels different this time. Uncomfortable instead of mildly annoying. "Some," he says for lack of a better answer. "We're both pretty happy with how things are right now, you know? It's good."

"You're sure about that?"

"I'm-- yeah," Jensen says. "I'm pretty sure."

"Mmm," is all he gets in reply as she reaches out and Jensen manages to not flinch away when she touches his shoulder, small hands smoothing over his sweater. "I know this must seem horribly invasive, but I know my daughter," she continues. "And I know what she needs to stay happy."

Jensen swallows, tries for another smile that's returned to him only feebly.

"You're a nice boy, Jensen," she says, reaching up to touch his hair, light at the back of his neck. "And I'd love to have you as a son-in-law. Don't screw this up."

:::

He gets an e-mail from Jared a week before his birthday. It's just a mass mailing, a notice to everyone that he's changed his phone number, that he and Sandy are doing well and that Jackson's walking and turning into a little hellion. It's nothing big, but just seeing the name in his inbox makes something tighten in Jensen's belly.

Jensen reads through it four times before clicking on 'reply'. He gets out, _Hey, man, good to hear from you_ before just deleting the whole thing.

A week later, he gets a text from an unfamiliar number. It says, _Happy birthday, you old fart!_ and it takes Jensen a good five minutes to realize who it's from.

He texts back with, _Kids are the first step to premature aging_ and then saves the number to his phone. He types in 'Jared Padalecki' and wonders later if he maybe should've included an ' & Sandy'.

:::

 _Captain America_ is the first real big budget film Jensen's ever been a part of and the promotion for it is unlike anything he's ever experienced. His schedule reads like a TV Guide for a couple weeks with interviews on Letterman, Leno and Craig Ferguson along with visits to Good Morning America and The View. He lands a stint on SNL, which is both terrifying and amazing and gives him a chance to stretch some of his theater muscles. He gets good reviews on that, apparently surprising most of America with his comedic timing.

And then there are the magazine and newspaper spreads, the full length articles in _Entertainment Weekly_ and _Empire_ and week-long press junket. It's everything about the industry he's always hated and he has a hard time ignoring the bizarre sense of loneliness as he goes through the motions, the feeling that there should be someone right next to him to deflect the stupider questions with a too-bright smile and loud laugh.

The premiere is in New York, a week before the Labor Day release. Jensen flies his family up for the occasion, smiles wide when Mackenzie tackles him in a hug.

"I saw your face four times between here and the airport," she says. "Photoshop does wonders, seriously."

Jensen snorts a laugh and then bends his arm around her neck to pull her in tight, tugging at her hair. "When're you gonna grow out of being such a brat?"

Giggling, Mackenzie elbows him in the side. "When you grow out of the tights?" she says and then squeals when Jensen pinches her sides and picks her up off the ground.

His mother puts an end to it with fond scolding, pulling Jensen into a warm hug and petting at his cheek. "So proud of you," she tells him and Jensen grins, saying, "Maybe hold off on that until after you've actually seen the movie."

Once they've settled into their room, he calls a car to drive them to dinner. He sits next to his mom on the way and she reaches over to take his hand. "Where's Danneel, honey?," she asks. "I thought for sure she'd be here."

"She's flying out tomorrow," Jensen says as he quickly glances out the window, watches the city crawl by. "Shooting fell behind so she's stuck there for tonight."

"Oh," his mother replies, squeezing his hand again, warm and reassuring. "Well, at least she'll make it for the important part."

:::

Jensen's on his way to a meeting with his agent when he gets the text. They're planning on going over the sizable number of roles being thrown his way since the explosion of _Captain America_ to decide which will be best for his career, see if there are any scripts or opportunities that really leap out at him. He's in good spirits, and when he sees Jared's name flash across his phone, for just a second, he feels a swell of familiar warmth.

 _My kid now has a pair of PJs with your face on them just thought you should know._

He smirks to himself, brushes a thumb over his keypad and types back: _Good to see you raising him right._

It's not until he's in Karen's office, listening to her go through a list of pros and cons for working with Judd Apatow that his phone buzzes again.

 _Sandy's idea. My vote was for Wolverine._

"I know you want something more dramatic, something outside your comfort zone, but Judd's hot right now," Karen says and Jensen grunts his acknowledgment as he taps out a reply. "You just skyrocketed into the mainstream, Jensen. It might be a good place to stay for awhile. Get a good few more hits under your belt and then branch out."

 _Wolverine's a pussy_ , he types and then glances up. "Spielberg," he says, grinning.

Karen rolls her yes. "Trust me, if I hear anything from Spielberg, I'll let you know."

They've moved onto debating whether or not he should look into the next Nora Ephron romantic comedy when Jensen's phone goes off. He glances down to see Jared's name across the screen and bites back a grin, thumbs the button to make it go to voicemail.

Karen arches an unamused eyebrow at him and he mutters an apology, shoots off a quick, _Sorry. Meeting. Call you later._ and shoves his phone into his pocket, waits for the buzz against his thigh alerting him of Jared's voicemail.

:::

"Ireland. Wow. That's incredible, Danny. Congratulations."

Danneel's smile is unsure and Jensen reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. "Really, that's amazing," he says, feeling the small bones of her fingers under his own, her soft, smooth skin and long, perfectly manicured nails. "Proud of you, baby."

It seems to soothe her somewhat, her shoulders curling forward as she leans closer. "I was thinking we could leave a little early," she says, turning her wrist to thread their fingers. "Maybe drop off Icarus with my parents and then head over, get in a week of sight-seeing before shooting starts. Just you and me."

"Yeah, maybe," Jensen says. "I'll have to check with Karen and Rachel. I might have to head up to Chicago then."

Danneel blinks, purses her lips as her grip loosens.

Jensen knows that look and he lets out a breath, pulls his hand free to grab his plate and fork.

"I thought you didn't start shooting until after Christmas," Danneel says, her voice quieter. Colder.

"We don't," Jensen says, forcing his own voice to stay cool and ambivalent. He turns on the faucet, runs his dishes under the flow of water. "But Rachel said something about getting together with Apatow and Rogan. A few of the other guys. Get some stuff fleshed out before everything really gets started."

"So see if he can do it earlier."

"Danny--"

"Jensen, I'm going to _Europe_. For _three months_. We won't see each other at all that entire time. Doesn't that bother you?"

Jensen turns off the water with a yank and runs his wet hand over the thigh of his jeans as he turns to face her. "Baby, we've done it before. It's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal when it's the other side of the world, Jensen."

Sighing, Jensen crosses his arms over his chest, rests heavily against the edge of the counter. He stares at the dark, smooth lines of his wooden floor. It's a tired argument, one that's been rehashed and replayed so many times already and he knows all he can do is wait it out.

Danneel's chair scrapes across the flooring as she stands up, grabbing her plate and fork. She doesn't look at Jensen as she walks to the sink, but Jensen shifts to give her room, says, "I'll call Karen tomorrow, okay? See what I can find out."

She doesn't answer him, head lowered and hair hiding her face as she scrapes the leftover piece of chicken off her plate and uses her fork to shove it into the disposal.

Jensen watches her, thinks about reaching out and sliding his hand along her hip, thinks about kissing apologies across the nape of her neck.

Instead, he pushes away, snagging his beer off the table on his way to the living room.

:::

Jensen spends New Year's Eve alone in his Chicago hotel room, watching the fireworks light up the sky over Lake Michigan. Dick Clark's ailing voice filters from the television, counting down the seconds above the drunken shouts of people celebrating.

He kisses his bottle of Corona at midnight and is asleep on his couch an hour later, wakes the next morning with a stiff neck and half a dozen texts, all from different people, all wishing him a happy new year. Jared's one of them, but, unlike the others, it doesn't look mass-mailed. Says, _Happy New Year, man. Hope life's treating you good. Call me sometime._

He scrolls down through a few more and gets to Danneel's: _Woke up to a new decade and no word from you. We need to talk._

There's only six hours difference between Chicago and Dublin, just enough to be annoying and difficult, but not insurmountable. She may be knee-deep in filming, but he could just leave a message, a sign that he got hers. That he's trying.

His intentions are interrupted by his phone buzzing sharply in the palm of his hand. His mother sounds surprised to find him awake when he answers and they talk for half an hour about all the things she bought in the past week and his ungrateful second cousins and Mackenzie's apparently 'very adorable and very nice' new boyfriend. She passes him onto his father once she's done and they talk about the shoot and his father's upcoming radio segment before his mother comes back on the line.

"Oh, honey. Did I tell you that Danneel called the other day?" she says. "So far away and she still called to wish us a Merry Christmas!"

It shouldn't be surprising; Danneel's always been the one to remember birthdays and anniversaries, the one who calls people just to find out how they're doing. Whereas Jensen forgets and delays and lets people slip away. But considering how they've been lately, the arguments and the distance that has nothing to do with a gaping ocean, it seems strange.

"Yeah?" he says, scratches a finger along his jaw as he frowns.

"Such a sweet girl. You better hang onto her, don't think you're ever gonna find another like her. Especially in your line of work."

Jensen thinks it says something that his initial impulse is to argue, to get defensive on behalf of the amazing women he's met and worked with over the years. But he catches himself in time, says only, "Yeah, mama. She's not goin' anywhere. Promise."

:::

Shooting for _Common People_ wraps in mid-February and Jensen grabs a flight to Dublin the following morning, getting in well after sundown. The air is bitingly cold and miserable and he catches a cab into town, staring out the window at the dreary wetness. Aside from the weather, it's a far cry from Chicago.

Not expecting Danneel to be in yet, he decides to kill a few hours at the hotel bar. The bartender there recognizes him immediately and fixes him up with a couple free drinks. The place quickly fills up as the night progresses, the patrons largely well-off travelers and businessmen. A constant stream of alcohol serves as a good relaxant, allowing Jensen to spend his time chatting with the bartender and a few strangers. He smiles at the people who recognize him and signs a few autographs, poses for pictures while soaking in his new-found celebrity for once rather than hiding from it.

It's nearly midnight before he pays his tab, limbs booze-warm and heavy as he takes the elevator up to Danneel's floor.

She's dressed only in a pair of shorts and t-shirt when she answers the door, her hair up and make-up off and she looks just as surprised to see him as he'd hoped.

"Jensen. What're you doing here?"

Jensen shrugs and smiles. Says, "Missed you."

She hesitates for a moment, taking him in with a wary and doubtful gaze, before stepping back to let him in.

He lets his bag slide off his shoulder as she closes the door and quickly crowds into her space, hands resting on her hips as he tugs her forward, brushes a kiss along her temple and down her cheek. He can smell that she's changed her shampoo.

"You could've told me you were coming," she says.

"Could've," he agrees, lips brushing her ear. "Would've ruined the surprise, though."

"I hate surprises," Danneel says, but her voice is quieter, soft in that way Jensen hasn't heard in awhile. He slides one hand around to the small of her back, fingertips drifting under the hem of her shirt.

"I know," he says, kissing the skin high up on her neck. "Probably gonna hate what comes next even more."

Danneel tips her head back with a soft hum and Jensen tastes down the slope of her neck, slips his free hand up to tug aside the collar of her shirt. Her skin is softer than he remembers as she melts against him, sighing out a breath that rings of surrender.

Grinning, he kisses his way back up, murmurs, "Marry me," along the curve of her jaw.

Her reaction is immediate, Danneel pulling back sharply enough for Jensen to nearly topple forward. He catches himself with one clumsy step as she stares at him with wide-eyed disbelief. And Jensen doesn't know if it's the alcohol or the jet lag or the three months' separation, but he can't read her expression. Not at all.

"What?" he says after a long stretch of a silence. "I mean, that's what you want, isn't it?"

Danneel's response is quick and cold, a scoff as she shoves him away. "No, it's not what I want! Jesus, Jensen, you're not-- months of barely talking and you think I want to _marry_ you?"

The room tilts and dips under his feet, but Jensen suddenly feels far too sober. "We've both just been busy," he protests, but Danneel's already shaking her head.

"We've both been busy since the day we _met_. This is different. It's been different for six months."

"Danny..."

"Why are you doing this?" Danneel asks, her voice softer, but still cold. Imploring as she crosses her arms over her chest. "You fly all the way out here to get drunk and _propose_? Really? And I'm supposed to think it's not just some sick joke? Or just some shitty attempt at fixing something you've failed to notice is _totally fucking broken_?"

"I thought you _wanted_ me to come out here," he says, his voice rising to match hers. "Or was that all just guilt trip bullshit?"

Danneel's expression hardens, lips thinning as her eyes darken. "I wanted you to come out before I started working. When we both had time and could relax and maybe _enjoy_ ourselves for a change. But you weren't interested, remember?"

"I had shit to do, Danny! You're not the only one with a busy schedule here."

"The difference is that _I_ was willing to make the time," Danneel says, her voice quieter and carefully controlled. She doesn't look as angry anymore, Jensen notices. Her lips twitch at the corners and her voice is thicker when she speaks again. "You weren't," she says, nearly a whisper and Jensen realizes she's trying not to cry.

All the fight rushes out of him and he steps forward. "Fuck, Danny..."

But Danneel stops him with one hand as she shakes her head. "You really need to go."

"No. I'm not leaving. Danneel, we need to talk about this," he says and Danneel laughs, rough and sharp and completely devoid of any actual humor.

"It's a little too late for that now, baby," she says, her sad tone saying everything he needs to hear. He stands, numb, as she walks past him, one arm tucked across her chest as she opens the door with the other. "Just go, okay?"

He stares at her, untethered and tired, glances at the stretch of hallway beyond the open door.

"Go home."

:::

The mob of paparazzi awaiting him at LAX is more than a little annoying, but completely unsurprising. He ducks his head and shoulders through, ignoring the intrusive questions hurtled at him from all directions as he climbs into the waiting car. He slides into the far corner and closes his eyes, tries to will his blood pressure back to a reasonable level as the chauffeur watches him through the rear view mirror.

"You okay?" the guy asks with a genuine sort of worry.

Jensen pulls in a breath and nods. "Yeah. I'm good," he says, pointedly not looking out the window. "Thanks."

It's not the truth, but he can pretend well enough in the time it takes to get from the airport to the house. The house that still screams of a relationship that's been slowly dying for months. The paps will already be there, he knows; they've probably had the place staked out for days, just waiting for his return, hiding in the bushes out front with their fucking telephoto lenses.

He has the fleeting impulse to tell the driver to take him somewhere else, maybe to Tyler's place or Steve's. Or maybe to a house just outside Pasadena, one he's never actually stepped foot in, though he has the address saved in his phone.

But it's a false sanctuary and he knows it. He'd only be an imposition.

:::

The following week is a whirlwind of meetings with Rachel and his PR people, phone calls from his worried and disappointed mother and less-than-impressed sister, invitations out to the bar from Tyler and Steve, and an endless stream of texts and e-mails from past co-workers and co-stars, people he's barely spoken to in years. Most just want to know if it's true, each of them not-so-subtly digging for dirt. Others seem actually genuine in their sympathy, sending only, _Sorry to hear the news_ and _Let me know if you need to get out for awhile_. Jensen deletes most all of them without replying.

He calls Danneel in the meantime, works out the dirty logistics of clearing out all evidence of their relationship. She gives him the details regarding her brother possibly flying out to drive her stuff back to New York and Jensen sighs as he crumples forward on the edge of his bed, rubs a hand over his face.

"Can we just worry about this when you get back?" he says. "Your stuff's not goin' anywhere. Promise I won't set any of it on fire or sell it on Ebay."

Danneel makes a quiet sound, something that's not quite a laugh and Jensen's not sure whether or not to find it comforting. "Probably not a good idea."

"Why not?" Jensen sits up a little, glares at the rug at his feet, the one Danneel had found at a garage sale two weeks after moving in. "Maybe it's just stress. Maybe we could--"

"You realize we've talked more in the past week than we have in the past month?" Danneel says, her voice quiet. Firm, but not unkind. "I'm not-- that's not supposed to be a guilt trip, Jensen. Just... it says something, you know?"

Jensen winces, presses the heel of his hand against his eye. "I know," he says, scowling as his hand comes away wet. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Danneel whispers.

:::

Jensen's phone vibrates sharply against the granite counter before he grabs at it and then stares at the screen for a good few seconds as it buzzes in his hand. Finally, he hits connect, says, "Jared?" like he's sure technology must be lying to him.

"Oh! Hey!" Jared says. "Didn't expect you to pick up."

"Didn't expect you to call," Jensen replies.

"Yeah, well," Jared says, trailing off quietly.

There's an immediate awkwardness hanging between them, the kind that only comes from too much time apart, too many weeks and months and years. The kind Jensen had never figured he'd have to worry about with Jared. Even after everything.

"I caught your show the other night," he says quickly, trying to clear the air. "I've Tivo'd the whole season, I just haven't... you know, pretty low on time lately."

Jared gives a low rumble of a laugh, quiet and not totally sincere. Says, "Dude, it's cool. Know you're a busy guy, don't sweat it."

Jensen can tell he means it, but he can't help feeling guilty anyway. It's not that he's actively avoided watching Jared's show. Not exactly. He's been aware enough to know that Jared's performance has been pretty well received by fans and critics alike, knows that his character is apparently interesting and dynamic enough to stretch into a recurring role. He's happy for Jared, of course he is. He just really hasn't had much time.

He leans his hip against the edge of the counter and crosses one arm across his chest, scratching at his shoulder. "So what's up? What's new with you, man?"

"I'm, uh," Jared starts, his tone shifting slightly and Jensen's stomach tightens, realization settling in. "Actually callin' 'cause I heard the news. 'Bout Danneel, I mean."

It's not surprising, of course. With the way Jensen's name and face has been splashed all over TMZ and US Weekly, he figures someone would either have to be a hermit or _dead_ to not have heard by now.

Jensen clears his throat and shrugs. Says, "Yeah. Well. Long time comin', I think."

He gets nothing in response for a moment, tries to picture the look on Jared's face and comes up short. A few years ago, he would've known, would've picked up on everything Jared wasn't saying and then some.

Not anymore.

"I was gonna call when I first heard," Jared finally says, his voice quieter, an odd hint of sadness in his tone. "But I figured you'd be pretty, uh... busy, I guess. With things."

There's another long stretch of silence and Jensen gets the impression Jared's waiting on him to break it.

"Yeah," he says, shifting his weight as he stares down at the floor. "It's been. She's flying back tomorrow so we should get some shit figured out then. She's got a place lined up and I'm heading out to Toronto in about a month or so. So, you know. It'll be okay."

"Yeah?" Jared says, sounding hopeful or maybe like he just isn't sure whether or not to believe him. "Well, that's... I mean, it's not _good_ , I guess, but it sounds like it could be worse."

"She hasn't asked for my head on a platter if that's what you mean."

"Just half your bank account."

Jensen breathes a huff of a laugh. "We weren't married," he says and then winces inwardly. Because that'd been the whole problem, really. Or at least part of it. Jensen had never been willing to take that step, however badly he'd tried to fake it. But that's nothing Jared needs to know. "Plus, she'll probably be making more than I do after this next film of hers comes out."

"Yeah," Jared says, but he still doesn't sound like he believes it. "So how's Icky taking it?"

Again, Jensen's lips twitch into a bare smile and he pulls out the bar stool tucked under the counter. "He's been staying up in New York for the past couple months. Pretty sure he doesn't even know yet."

"Aww, poor guy. This'll be a blow."

"Right," Jensen snorts, drags his thumb across the edge of the counter.

"Make sure someone keeps an eye on him," Jared continues, voice teasing. "Might get all depressed and stop eating his kibble."

Jensen makes a quiet sound, meant to be a laugh, though it doesn't feel at all sincere. Icarus actually hadn't come up in any of his talks with Danneel; it'd been a foregone conclusion he'd go with her. And now it -- it shouldn't be a big deal and it _isn't_ a big deal, really, especially not in comparison to everything else -- but Jensen feels a sudden, alarming ache all the same. Icarus hadn't been his idea, but he'd grown to love that stupid dog and now he'll probably never see him again. The pain is so sudden and so acute that, for a moment, Jensen can't breathe through it, his chest clenching tight as he leans forward, the heel of his hand against his temple.

And, somehow, with Jensen not even saying a word, Jared seems to get it, his tone dropping to quiet concern. "Hey, it's gonna be alright, man," he says and Jensen only shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger and tries to force down the overwhelming sense of complete failure. He can hear Jared's quiet breathing along with the muffled sounds of a television in the background. It filters through the phone line, an unavoidable reminder of the distance between them.

"So I was thinkin'," Jared says, voice thick as it breaks the silence, "maybe you and me could hang out this weekend. Go to a bar somewhere. See a movie. Shit, go golfin' if you want. Whatever."

Jensen _does_ laugh then, choked and rough and he rubs his nose with the back of his thumb. "Dude. You hate golf."

"Do not. I mean, I don't think it in any way resembles a _sport_ and I probably don't own anything nearly ugly enough to wear--"

"Oh God, yes, you do."

"-- But it could be fun anyway. I can feel good releasing all those poor defenseless golf balls back into the wild. What'd'ya say?"

Jensen runs his hand along his chin, two days' worth of stubble scratching his palm and pulls in a slow, deep breath. He pictures the open, earnest look on Jared's face and says, "Yeah, that-- thanks, man. That sounds great."

:::

The weekend doesn't work out. Jared leaves him a message on Friday, something about a dinner party Sandy hadn't mentioned, and Jensen pretends to ignore the disappointment, tells himself it doesn't matter anyway, that he has bigger things to worry about.

He and Danneel end up spending the better part of the weekend getting her moved into her new place and they fuck on the floor of the living room, surrounded by mountains of boxes and balled up strips of masking tape. It's rough and quick and better than it's been in months and afterward, Jensen lies sprawled out, stares blankly up at the ceiling as the sweat cools on his skin.

"Think this is really it?" he asks as Danneel sits up and slips back into her bra. She looks over her shoulder at him, eyebrow raised and he resists the urge to reach out and trail his fingers down the length of her spine. "I'm serious. I mean--"

"Jensen," Danneel says, quick but not unkind. She twists around, rests a hand low on his stomach. Out of habit, Jensen settles his own right on top of it and she doesn't balk or pull away at the touch, just frowns slightly, her eyes sad. "Just... stop, okay? We both--"

She cuts herself short, biting at her lip that way Jensen's always found strangely enthralling. When he reaches up to touch her hair, she still doesn't pull away, just sighs, her shoulders slumping as she slides her hand back, says very quietly, "You haven't been in love with me for a long time, Jensen."

He stops, arm raised and eyes wide. But she doesn't look angry or even accusatory and that somehow makes it worse.

"That's not true," he says, quiet and hollow.

Danneel only gives him a small, pained smile. Says, "You remember Jared and Sandy's wedding?" and Jensen frowns, confusion and a small tremor of muted panic elbowing its way through the denial as she continues. "It was weird, you know? _You_ were weird. The whole time. I mean, you showed up and looked amazing and talked and danced and whatever, but it never really felt like _you_. At first, I thought maybe we'd been away from each other for so long I couldn't really see the difference anymore between when you were putting on an act and when you were actually being _you_ , but then... I don't know, something just changed. I figured out it wasn't me seeing things, but that _you_ had changed. Somehow."

Jensen lets his arm drop back to his chest and feels that strange suffocation again, tighter and more terrifying, his stomach churning.

"I think maybe it happened before then and I just didn't... I don't know. But it was really clear that day." She stops then, staring down at the floor. Their clothes are mixed together in a tangle of denim and cotton a foot away and Jensen feels the itch to pull on a shirt.

Her hair falls forward, blocking her face from Jensen's view as she lets out a breath.

"I don't know why I didn't do something about it then," she says, tucking her hair back behind her ear and she's still stunningly beautiful, the most gorgeous woman he's ever known. "Thought it'd go away, I guess. That you'd eventually settle or something."

Jensen winces, but doesn't argue, doesn't say anything at all. He lets the silence bounce off the bare walls and high ceiling, lets it snake around them, poisonous.

It's only broken when Danneel shifts again, reaching to grab her shirt and tug it on, her dark, wild hair trapped under the collar. She tosses him his shirt as she gets to her feet and Jensen catches it against his chest, sits up and stares at the fabric in his hands as his mind and stomach turn over. The shirt's one Jared had gotten for him as a joke at some cheap tourist shop in Vancouver. It reads ' _Save a tree. Eat beaver_ ' in faded red along the chest and there's a hole under the left armpit, a blue paint stain on the back and, for the life of him, Jensen suddenly can't remember why he hasn't thrown it out yet.

He looks up again, but Danneel is still turned away. _I'm sorry_ , he tries to say. _I'm sorry. You deserved so much better._

But the words won't come.

Danneel pulls a band off her wrist and ties her hair back in a messy ponytail before weaving her way through the maze of boxes towards the kitchen. "Thanks again for the help," she says as she goes, impersonal but genuine, and Jensen trails a finger over the worn lettering on the shirt.

"Yeah," he says. "Of course."

He throws the shirt out later that night when he gets home, stuffs it into the trash in his bathroom, a balled up heap of faded grey.

:::

He's reading the paper in LAX when he finds out about Jared's show. It's barely a blurb, just nestled in with the list of other shows not making the cut for the following year. It still catches him off-guard and he reads it over a couple times to make sure he's got it right before reaching for his phone.

There isn't much he can say, he knows that, and the idea of an awkward phone call is wholly unappealing, but he sends off a text. Short and simple.

' _Just heard about the show. Sucks. Anything new lined up?_ '

There's a voicemail from Rachel waiting when he lands in Toronto, a quick notice of who's picking him up and where he's staying along with a reminder of the meeting he has to go to tomorrow and the things he should have with him. There's nothing from Jared, no message or text or e-mail and Jensen doesn't know whether to be disappointed, relieved or worried.

He has a meeting the next day with the director and the other leads, checks his phone just as they're getting out and notices the new text. ' _Nothing yet but I'm good. Thanks._ '

Jensen reads it over a few times, tries to imagine the words in Jared's easy-going voice, tinged with his everything-will-be-alright smile. Comes up empty. There's disappointment there, which is wholly understandable. But there's something else, too, something Jared's carefully not saying in his limited characters.

His thumb hovers over the touchpad as he wonders whether a quick, ' _Let me know if you need anything_ ,' would come off supportive or condescending before a warm hand lands on his shoulder.

"Jensen, hey!" Josh says and Jensen glances up to a bright, inviting smile. "Me and Christine are thinkin' of grabbin' dinner at the Bistro. You in?"

Pulling on a smile, Jensen nods. "Yeah, absolutely," he says, claps a hand against Brolin's back and slides his phone back into his pocket.

:::

Toronto brings something of a fresh start. It's a new project with a new director in a new city, distractions rampant in the unfamiliar, the little and big things helping to take his mind off the enormity of being single again. Of course, every set comes with downtime and Jensen still ends up spending too many hours waiting in his trailer between scenes because there's never _quite_ enough time to warrant him leaving. Just enough to let him sit and think and pinpoint all the instances in the past few weeks, months and years where he'd turned left when he should've gone right.

The job turns out to be one of the better ones he's ever had. Boyle's an amazing director, a visionary in every sense of the word and Jensen eventually finds a distraction in learning, spending more time out of his trailer and on set even when he doesn't need to be. It helps that there are a few familiar faces peppering the crew, Gabe and Randy and Tina, all of them seemingly happy to see him again, welcoming him back into Canada with open arms. He watches and listens, studies the angle of the lights and cameras, absorbs and analyzes the different techniques as he tries to piece together what the final product might look like using the small snatches of dailies as clues.

In between, he studies his lines, rehearses blocking with Josh and Bobby, endures the make-up and the on-the-spot re-writes and the inevitable repetition.

He does his job and it's _good_. Really good. Makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he's not taking a wrong turn this time.

:::

"You could do this, you know," Gabe says to him sometime in the middle of July. It's disgustingly hot out even down by the water, humidity making clothing stick to skin as the waves of Lake Ontario roll onto the shore. Jensen isn't scheduled for a scene, has no real reason to be there except that he doesn't have anything better to do.

Shielding the sun from his eyes, he glances over.

Gabe nods to where Danny's talking with the sound guys as other crew members set up the camera rig. "Guys like you, hotshot Hollywood superstars," he says, lips curling into a teasing grin as Jensen snorts a laugh, "they do it all the time, right? Go all actor-turned-director."

"Sure, if they're Tom Hanks," Jensen says, fighting a smirk.

"Or Ben Affleck. Mel Gibson. Ben Stiller. Andy Garcia."

Jensen quirks an eyebrow. "Andy Garcia?"

"See my point?"

Jensen shrugs, then squints out across the water. There's a nice breeze coming off the lake, a comfortable contrast to the sticky heat and he thinks about a future behind the camera, thinks about all the people who'd laugh at him for trying. "I don't know," he says. "This whole acting thing's workin' pretty well for me right now. Got some things lined up."

"So start off small. Maybe TV or short film, something that won't take more than a couple weeks. You already got a good crew of people who'd love to work with you, so there's that. Present company excluded, of course."

"Of course," Jensen says, grinning.

Gabe tosses his own knowing smile. "Hey, I'm not trying to press you into anything," he says, giving Jensen a teasing bump with his arm. "Just saying. I know an itch when I see one."

"Oh, that right?"

"Dude, you've been asking me annoying questions since _Vancouver_ ," he says. "Thought maybe you'd get over it, but the way you've been following people here around like an obnoxiously curious five-year-old, I'm thinking maybe that was only the beginning."

Jensen breathes a laugh, quiet enough that it's lost in the wind. He can feel Gabe watching him, waiting for some kind of confirmation and Jensen only flicks him a glance, enough to make Gabe smile and shake his head.

"Just think you should keep it in mind," he says, dropping a hand on Jensen's shoulder. The collar of Jensen's shirt is lined with sweat, but Gabe doesn't seem to mind, just slides his hand up to pat Jensen's nape before turning to walk away.

Jensen breathes in as he watches Gabe go, lets the idea mull and settle and mutters,"Yeah, maybe I will," to nobody in particular.

:::

It's well into August when Jensen remembers Jared's birthday. He's in wardrobe at the time, getting fitted for a three-piece suit he'll spend the next week sporting in front of the camera and slumps out a breath, his shoulders sagging.

" _Shit._ "

Mari glances up from where she's crouched at his feet, pins stuck between her lips and brow furrowed. He shakes his head quickly, straightening up again.

"No, sorry. Just... remembered something."

"Hmm," she murmurs and carries on without another word.

Jensen stares at himself in the mirror, gut twisting with a tremor of guilt. He hasn't spoken to Jared since the break-up with Danneel, hasn't heard anything from him since that lone text. It feels wrong and uncomfortable and more than a little worrying. He tries to assure himself that he'd know by now if something had happened; surely _someone_ would've told him if Jared was sick or injured, would've told him if something had happened to Sandy or Jackson.

After the fitting, he thinks about sending an e-mail or maybe calling. But then Bobby's there, grabbing his elbow and steering him toward the catering tent as he yammers about some soccer team Jensen only knows in passing.

"Hey, let me ask you somethin'," Jensen says in the middle of poking at a piece of steamed chicken. Bobby looks up, grunts around a mouth full of food and nods for Jensen to continue. "You ever..." Jensen says, but then trails off. It's a stupid question, not one he could ever manage to put into words and he's fairly sure he knows the answer anyway.

Bobby's brow furrows and he picks at a piece of something caught in his front teeth. "What?" he asks, curious and maybe a little concerned.

And Jensen only shakes his head, lets out a quiet breath. Because the answer is that shit happens. Shit happens and people move on and grow up and apart. That's all there is to it.

He cocks his head to the side and says, "You ever think much about directing?"

:::

Jensen meets Liz at one of Steve's parties about a month after _Breaking April_ wraps. She's shorter than Danneel, with long brown hair and kind of a mousy face, small nose and dark eyes. She wears jeans with a heavy, studded belt and an old Ataris t-shirt that attempts to hide her figure and sings along to every word of the Sublime album pumping through the speakers.

She tells him she's a grad student in archeology at UCLA and about her last few interning at the Smithsonian in DC. By the end of the night, Jensen has her number and a tenuous date set up for some time in the near future.

It's not supposed to be a serious thing. He doesn't want serious. But Liz is nice and hot and interesting and truly doesn't give a shit that he's ever appeared on the cover of _GQ_. Also, it turns out she's pretty damn good in bed and it doesn't take long for Jensen to decide he likes having her around.

Of course, the tabloids find out almost immediately. Liz is cool about it, teasing him with some of the more absurd headlines, especially the ones that call her fat or claim that she's actually Danneel's best friend, cousin, long-lost niece.

It's still not serious, even if she starts sleeping over a few times a week. She wears his old, stretched-out t-shirts and makes him coffee in the morning before heading off to school. Sometimes they meet up for lunch at a little sushi place off campus, both of them ignoring the curious looks thrown their way. Sometimes they catch a movie on the weekend or go out to a bar or hang with Ty and Steve and whoever else happens to be around.

It's comfortable. Easy, almost. But it's still nothing serious.

:::

Jackson's birthday card comes back in the mail two weeks after Jensen had Rachel send it out. It's unopened with a yellow sticker across the front and someone's messy scrawl: _Not at this Address_.

He stares at it for a long time, turns it over, like there might be something on the back that the post office missed.

"Haven't had a chance to research that yet," Rachel says and Jensen glances up to see her nod at the envelope. "Was going to put in a few calls, see what I could find out. I'm guessing they both moved after the divorce and maybe just forgot to set up a forwarding address. I can track it down."

Jensen's head snaps up.

Rachel blinks at him, brow creased as she pulls her hand back from reaching for the envelope. "You didn't know?"

"What divorce?"

" _Their_ divorce," Rachel says, like it's nothing profound. Like Jensen should've known because... well, because he should've. It's been months since he and Jared last spoke, months since any phone calls, e-mails or texts. Any communication whatsoever. Hell, Jared hadn't even texted him a heartfelt _fuck you_ over Jensen missing his birthday.

Jesus, he should've known.

"Back in July," she continues when all Jensen can do is wonder when the hell the chasm between them split so wide. "I would've told you except I figured you already knew and just..."

She trails off with a frown, watching him warily.

"Just what?" he asks, still reeling, suddenly needing to know her exact thought process. Like it's _her_ fault he's the worst friend on the planet.

Still frowning, she gives him a shrug. "Didn't care."

Her response isn't wholly unexpected, but it still hits like a punch, makes his stomach go tight and fingers numb. He swallows it, forces in a breath as he glances down at the envelope. He taps it against his fingers just once and then hands it back.

"Look into it, will you?" he asks, carefully keeping his tone quiet and undemanding. "And, uh. Check on his cell, too. Haven't heard from him in awhile so he might've. Think he might've changed it."

Rachel eyes him carefully as she takes the envelope. "Already on it," she says.

:::

Jensen tries Jared's cell on his way outside, expecting a ' _We're sorry, the number you dialed has been disconnected_ ,' in that generic female voice. But it just rings five, six times before he gets, " _Hey, this is Jared. Not around right now. You know the drill._ "

Jared's voice catches him off balance, warm and there and then _not_ and he falters a response. "Hey, uhm," he stumbles, squinting against the sun as he reaches his car. He stands by the door, looking out across the lot, the sunlight bouncing off the line of silver Mercedes. "It's Jensen. I haven't-- sorry, shit's been crazy lately and I hadn't heard. About, uhm, you know. Hey, so, just. Just call me when you get a chance, okay? If you want."

It's clumsy and doesn't at all say what needs to be said, but Jensen disconnects before he can make it any worse, shoves his phone back into his pocket.

He checks it for messages the entire way home, glancing down at every lull in traffic, but Jared never calls back.

:::

Jensen's first directing gig is for Kripke's newest show, an hour-long serial comedy-drama about a sorority of witches at an Ivy League school. The whole show is deliberately campy and over-the-top and not exactly the kind of thing Jensen wants to become known for as a director, but he's not about to turn down the opportunity. Especially when it's coming from Eric.

It films in New York and Jensen spends the entire flight out struggling not to vomit, nerves balled up tight as he thinks of every last thing that could possibly go wrong. He clings to the few familiar names signed onto the project and imagines the rest of the cast and crew labeling him as nothing more than a Hollywood pretty boy with a superiority complex, wonders whether any of them will actually take him seriously, how hard he'll have to work to earn their respect.

They shoot for ten days in and around Albany and, while it doesn't exactly go off without a hitch, he does far better than he'd feared.

He sits in front of the monitor on the final day, reviewing the footage of the last few takes. They look good. Better than good, even. The lighting's perfect and Jesse even managed to get through the whole thing without fucking up his lines and Jensen sits up, drops the headphones to his shoulders and lets out a breath.

"Think that's a wrap, guys."

A hand lands on his shoulder as soon as he stands, warm and huge and he turns to smile up into the face of his first AD.

"Great job," he says, grabbing Jensen's hand in a shake. "Good workin' with you. Real, real good."

There's no party afterward, no major fanfare to see him off. He still has a few last strings to tie up before everything gets sent off to editing, but Eric calls him the morning before his flight back to LA.

"Took a look at the dailies," he says. "They look good! Not, like... well, you're no Spielberg yet or anything, so don't go gettin' a big head, but they're good."

Jensen's laugh is a little choked, relief flooding clear through his fingertips. "Don't sound so surprised."

"Hey, I'm _shocked_ ," Eric says, voice warm in its teasing. "Was half afraid you'd turn in something my kid could do with a camcorder."

"Wow, your faith in me is truly staggering," Jensen says dryly, though his smile doesn't waver.

Eric chuckles again and there's a beat before he speaks again. "Seriously, Jensen," he says, his tone shifted. "It's good stuff. I know I'm no great directorial expert, but I've been around these parts for awhile and I know good when I see it, you know? Knew you wouldn't let me down."

Jensen bites at his bottom lip and brushes his hand along his face as he lets out a shaky breath.

"Thanks," he says, only then realizing how badly he'd needed to hear that. "Uhm... you know, for everything. Thanks."

"Holy shit, are you _crying_?" Eric says and Jensen immediately laughs, loud and surprising as he shifts the phone from one ear to the other.

"Fuck you."

"You're totally crying!" Eric laughs. "No crying allowed until the ratings come in, you know that."

"I'm not crying."

"Of course, after the ratings come in, we might both be crying."

"Ah, and there's that unwavering support yet again."

"Our renewal rests in your hands, Jensen. No pressure or anything."

Jensen snorts out a laugh. "I'm hanging up now," he says. "Catch you tomorrow."

He stares at his phone a moment or two afterward, completely unable to keep the grin off his face. It's not quite over yet. There won't be a final product for another few weeks and there's plenty of time in between for all the mistakes to really come to light. But the hardest part is over and it feels good. It feels amazing.

:::

Liz has family just outside San Francisco and invites him up for Christmas. Jensen considers it before remembering how long it'd taken him to visit Danneel's family, wonders how big a step the whole thing is and decides to do Dallas instead. Alone. Liz seems disappointed at first, but she doesn't make it into a thing, just frowns and shrugs and says he'd better not expect her to bring back any of her mother's famed apple pie for his sorry ass.

He spends two weeks visiting his family and, while it serves as a nice break away from LA and the typical fast pace of his normal life, he's more than ready to leave once the holidays are over. He fills everyone in on his latest plans, tells them how different directing is to acting, endures his brother's gentle cajoling and basks in the pride that shines in his old man's eyes. They ask about Liz while carefully avoiding the topic of Danneel and wonder out loud when they'll get to meet her.

"We've only been seeing each other for a couple months," he says, laughing as he takes a stab at the piece of ham on his plate.

"I know, honey," his mother replies, reaching over to curl her hand around his wrist. "But she sounds like a nice girl. I want to see you happy."

"She wants to see you breeding," his sister amends.

"Mackenzie!"

"What, it's true," she says, grinning across the table as their mother sighs and rolls her eyes.

"It isn't," she insists. "I want your brother to be happy just as I want _all_ my children to be happy and I know-- Jensen, baby. I know you have a wonderful career and I'm so, _so_ proud of you... but are you really happy?"

The sudden seriousness of the question makes the entire table fall silent, all awaiting his response. Jensen gives a quick, nervous-sounding laugh, glances up at the wondering, skeptical looks from his family before he puts down his fork and rests his hand his mother's.

"I'm happy," he tells her, the lie coming surprisingly easy. So easy that he's not sure it even _is_ a lie anymore.

:::

His episode of _Greek Coven_ airs a week after he gets back to LA and Ty invites himself and about twenty of Ty's closest friends over to watch. Luckily, only about ten show up and Jensen spends most of the night largely drunk anyway.

"Dude!" Ty jumps up from the couch, remote in hand, freezing the screen just as Jensen's name flashes across the credits. "Can we, like, screencap this shit or something? I want this framed."

Jensen laughs despite himself, bumping the rim of his beer bottle against his bottom lip as Liz curls in closer to his side and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Nervous?" she asks, lips brushing his collar, and he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

He's not. Not really. He's already seen the episode countless times now, already knows all the things that didn't quite turn out like he'd hoped just as he knows all the little things that turned out better than he'd expected. It's maybe not the best piece of television ever created, but it's nowhere near the worst either, of that much he's certain.

Ty, as can only be expected, mocks it the whole way through, questioning every character's motivation and mimicking some of the more inane pieces of dialogue. Jensen isn't insulted and even slips in a few of his own jibes ten minutes in, feeling warm and relaxed from the alcohol, feeling like the whole thing really came out better than he'd dared hope.

He has an e-mail from Eric the next morning, four paragraphs of how proud he is, how much Jensen's exceeded his expectations, how much he's looking forward to working with him again.

Jensen reads it through five times, eyes wet and glassy before he can finally reply.

:::

 _Common People_ premieres in Westwood in February and Liz goes as his date, stunning in a simple blue dress and heels. She quietly hangs back as Jensen handles the seemingly endless stream of interviews on the red carpet, clearly a little overwhelmed by it all and more than a little uncomfortable in the outfit. But she doesn't complain, just smiles and curls her fingers with his before they head into the theater.

The film itself is pretty good, typical Apatow and nothing Jensen hadn't been expecting. He's pretty proud of how his performance turned out and the comments he receives as they're leaving -- whether sincere or not -- only make him feel even better.

The studio's holding an afterparty a few blocks away and Jensen, being the male lead, is sort of obligated to attend. He can tell Liz is tired, her smile growing less and less genuine with each passing moment, but she again doesn't complain or object and Jensen squeezes her hand in apology as they head for the line of waiting black limos.

It's a madhouse on the way, celebrities and press still everywhere, people Jensen's worked with in the past and many he's never even seen before shouting and snapping pictures, coming up to congratulate him on the film and shake his hand. When he and Liz are about ten feet from salvation in the form of a waiting car, a hand drops heavy onto Jensen's shoulder. Jensen sighs and pastes on a smile, prepares himself to face a former colleague or press hound or high-profile network exec or--

"Jared."

Jensen stares, mouth open as Jared quirks a smile. His hair's as long as ever, flopping over his ears and sticking out every which way and he looks happy and nervous. He looks amazing.

"Hey, man. Been tryin' to hunt you down all night," Jared says, still all smiles. "Guess you're pretty popular these days."

"Jared," Jensen says again, like he's trying to convince himself. "Holy shit man, what--" He cuts himself off, words bubbling into a laugh as he launches forward, wraps his arms tight around Jared's chest, hand finding his upper arm and squeezing. There's just as much muscle there as Jensen remembers, hidden under the thick jacket, warm and firm, and he doesn't let himself hold on for long.

When he pulls back, Jared's all but beaming, his hands on Jensen's sides.

"I heard about the movie," Jared says in explanation. "Thought I'd stop by and do some stalking. It's been awhile, man."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, that laugh pushing through again as he slides a hand up to Jared's neck, slaps and squeezes. "Yeah, it's been... Holy fuck, it's good to see you."

Jared's smile widens then, dimples flashing as he drops his hands from Jensen's sides and turns to Liz. "Hey, sorry," he says. "I'm Jared. I, uhm. Jensen and I used to work together."

"I know who you are," Liz says with a quiet laugh. "Jensen's mentioned you a few times."

"Liz, this is Jared," Jensen says quickly, flushing slightly at his lack of manners as he looks between them. "Jared, Liz. We've, uh. She's..."

For some reason, he can't find a way to finish his own damn sentence. Liz smiles, small and slightly strained before flicking her attention to Jared again. "Girlfriend," she says. "I'm his girlfriend."

Jared rumbles a quiet laugh and nods. "Yeah, I've seen the magazines," he says, wincing slightly in sympathy.

Liz laughs then, easy and warm and Jensen relaxes just a bit.

"Hey, listen," he says, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb. "There's this thing I have to go to. Party. Pretty sure it's written into my contract that if I don't at least show my face they get my firstborn or something. But you should come. I can get you in no problem."

He can see Jared hesitate, the smile on his face slipping as he looks from Jensen to Liz and back again. Jensen isn't going to beg, not out loud, but he cocks his head to one side, puts on his brightest grin. "C'mon, it won't take long. Get some free drinks and free food. Dude, I know you; you never turn down free food."

Jared breathes a laugh then and Jensen barely has time enough to question it, to wonder if after nearly three years, he really _does_ know Jared at all, before Jared's grinning again. Saying, "Yeah, alright."

:::

Liz has a class the next morning and Jensen doesn't particularly want to be there to begin with so the decision to leave fairly early is easy. Outside, the LA air is about ten degrees cooler than it had been earlier, but Jared still has his jacket off, fabric draped over one arm, his other hand occupied with one half of a breadstick.

Jensen's restless, keyed up from the party, itching to get out of his suit and drink some good beer. It hasn't been an awful evening, but he's tired of faking smiles and shaking hands, tired of pretending to be what everyone else wants him to be.

He turns to Jared as they wait for a car, says, "Dude, you got anywhere you need to be?"

Jared's only a step behind as he wipes bread crumbs off his mouth, glances down at where Jensen's hand is pressed low on Liz's back.

Jensen reads the hesitancy loud and clear and adds, "Was thinkin' we could go out for awhile, maybe hit up a bar or somethin'."

A black sedan with tinted windows pulls up and the valet opens the back door. Liz slides in, but Jensen lingers behind waiting for Jared to answer.

He shouldn't care this much. It's been almost three damn years, he shouldn't feel like his entire future depends on whether Jared says yes or no, but he can't help the way his fingers twitch in his pocket, blood thrumming under his skin.

"I've actually--" Jared starts, shooting a glance toward the car and Jensen feels his stomach plummet. Because, of course. Of course three years is too long to try and bridge with a couple drinks and an hour or two of small talk. Stupid idea.

But then Jared's shaking his head, letting out another one of those quiet laughs as he says, "N'ah, you know what, why not? Let's do it."

:::

"Dinosaurs and rubber ducks," Jared says and Jensen laughs around his bite of barbecue chicken. "Usually the ducks win. They can fly, you know. And breathe fire."

Jensen's feet are propped up on the coffee table and his suit jacket is draped over the far chair. Jared's stretched out next to him on the couch with his shirt untucked and tie undone. There's an empty pizza box between them, a mess of half a dozen Heineken bottles at their feet and a bucket of hot wings in Jensen's lap. They hadn't quite made it out to a bar after dropping Liz off at her place, choosing instead to just raid Jensen's fridge for beer and call in some delivery because Jared's still as much of a human garbage disposal as he's ever been and, despite having eaten a full course meal back at the party, still claimed to be starving.

He's grinning down at his food now, cheeks tinged red from alcohol, a little sweaty at the temples and Jensen feels like he's stepped back about five years.

"What, and dinosaurs can't?"

"Not according to Jack. And he should know; kid's an expert."

"Man, I had no idea. They're like ninjas."

"Fire-breathing ninjas."

Jensen lets his head drop back against the couch as he smiles up at the ceiling. It's weird hearing Jared talk about his kid, but not as weird as he thought it might be. And Jared keeps talking, going from dinosaurs and ducks to Jack's total fear of thunderstorms to his obsession with Sadie's ears to his favorite phrases and stuffed animals.

He doesn't bring up Sandy and Jensen never asks, but there are a million little hints in all the things Jared _doesn't_ say, every sad, wistful twitch of his lips speaking of the slow inevitability, the frustration in failure. When he smiles, it doesn't look how Jensen remembers, not as bright and full-bodied. Not even when he's talking about Jack. There's always just a little something held back, right up near the surface, but never quite breaking free.

It makes him wonder how much of himself is different from what Jared remembers.

After a few more beers, the conversation eventually turns nostalgic, slips from the perils of potty training to that one time Jensen got so drunk he took a piss in a tiny side street off Granville while Jared made a spectacle ten feet away so he wouldn't get caught. To the time Jared was the drunk one, out after some location shoot east of the city -- neither of them can remember the place or the episode -- and he drove everyone nuts singing Three Dog Night's entire repertoire before passing out in a wheelbarrow.

"Never could figure out how the hell you fit in that thing," Jensen says, practically giggling against the rim of his beer bottle.

"I didn't," Jared says. "My back was jacked up for _days_ , dude."

From there, it's one story after another, some of which Jensen barely remembers, others he remembers all too well. They talk about people they both haven't thought about in years, wonder out loud where they're at and how they're doing, if Kent's kid ever got into that college she was hoping for, if Brenda ever moved in with her boyfriend, the one out east she could never stop talking about. Some of it they can answer for each other; Jensen tells Jared about working with Gabe on _Breaking April_ and Jared fills Jensen in on a few people he's managed to keep in touch with.

"Oh, and I heard Larry's a lumberjack now."

"Larry," Jensen says, scratches idly at his stomach as his foot knocks against Jared's shin. He doesn't remember a Larry.

"Last season. Crazy lighting guy that replaced Daryl? Had a weird, like, mouth thing?"

"Oh. Shit, right. Lampry Larry."

Jared snorts a laugh that Jensen feels against his shoulder. He doesn't remember Jared getting so close, but he doesn't move back any, just lets his elbow knock against Jared's as he takes another sip and relishes the pleasant warmth in his stomach.

"Seriously. A lumberjack."

"Lampry Larry's a lumberjack," Jensen says after he swallows his drink, laughing as his tongue trips over the words. "You're fuckin' with me."

"I'm totally not! He's up in Alaska, I think."

"Lampry Larry from lighting to lumberjacking in Alaska. It's like a really disturbing nursery rhyme."

"You think he, like, latches onto the trunks and sucks 'em dry before cutting them down?"

"Oh, Jesus," Jensen groans through a helpless grin. "That's one mental picture I could've done without, thanks."

"Bet he just opens his mouth and goes to town," Jared continues. He's all smiles and there's a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes -- a look Jensen had never realized he'd miss so much -- before his lips mold into an O-shape and he starts making obnoxious slurping-sucking noises, tongue flicking out with every wet sound.

It's completely disgusting and also completely hilarious and Jensen leans away as Jared crowds in closer to suck the air near Jensen's ear. Jensen tries to shove him off with his elbow, but Jared's as big as ever, more like a wall than a person, and it's only a second before his mouth is on Jensen's shoulder, hot against the white dress shirt.

And, just like that, everything shifts.

Jensen's utterly still, heart hammering in his chest as Jared's hair tickles his cheek and Jared's tongue slowly dampens the fabric of his shirt. When Jared's hand drops to his leg, just above his knee, Jensen jolts, pulling back like he's been electrocuted.

Jared's still smiling when their eyes meet again, loose and happy, his eyelids heavy and cheeks tinged red. And, for half a second, Jensen thinks Jared will stay oblivious to Jensen's sudden panic, that the joke will continue undeterred. No harm no foul.

But then Jared watches him for one second longer and his lips twitch, tug downward as the light in his eyes fades. Jensen watches him dart a glance at Jensen's shoulder, gaze locking there with a dawning realization.

And Jensen wants to say something, say _anything_ to kill the tension coiling tight, but the words are locked in his throat.

His heartbeat counts the seconds, thudding hard and fast in his chest before Jared's eyes are on him again, darker this time, damn near predatory. Jensen feels caught and split open, feels like Jared's reading every last secret Jensen's had since the moment they met.

Jared's hand tightens on Jensen's leg, slides up an inch higher and Jensen sucks in a breath as Jared's lips find his and steal it back.

It's somehow not as shocking as it should be and Jensen opens easily to it, feels the slick slide of Jared's tongue before he even knows it's happening. There's a muffled sound between them, something close to a whimper and he genuinely has no idea if it's his own or Jared's before that heavy hand lifts from his thigh to his face, holding him there like Jensen has any intention of pulling away.

"Jensen. Fuck..." Jared bites at Jensen's mouth as Jensen tips his head back. "God, Jensen, you don't-- you don't even _know_."

But, as Jensen lets his beer bottle drop to the floor and curls his hands into Jared's hair, pulling him closer and tasting deeper, Jensen thinks, actually, maybe he does. Maybe he knows exactly.

:::

They barely make it to the bedroom.

Jared has him shoved up against the door as soon as they stumble inside, gets one hand into Jensen's pants, the other spread along his neck as he licks moan after moan from Jensen's mouth, swallowing each one. It doesn't take much; it's been way too fucking long and Jensen comes just like that, shudders under the weight of Jared's body, Jared's mouth and hands and pure undeniable heat like an assault on all his senses.

After, Jared breathes against his cheek and stares at him with wide eyes, pulls back just enough to drag one sticky finger along Jensen's bottom lip. Jensen sucks it into his mouth, tastes his own come mixed with the salt of Jared's skin, heavy and still startlingly familiar. With a groan, Jared shoves his finger in further and rocks his hips, his dick a hard line between them. And Jensen bites down, closes his teeth around Jared's second knuckle as he grips the meat of Jared's ass and hauls him closer.

He wants to offer more, wants to tell Jared to fuck him, beg for it. But Jared's fingers are still in his mouth and words would likely shatter the fragile bubble around them anyway, let in harsh reality far too soon.

Jared seems to be on the same page, his head ducked into Jensen's neck, mouthing soundless words against sweaty skin, moaning with every rub and thrust of his hips as Jensen sucks the come from his fingers.

It's a little disconcerting, actually, Jared's silence. Because Jared's always been loud, especially during sex. Jensen remembers harsh groans and rough proclamations, heated, dirty promises growled into every inch of Jensen's skin. He'd loved it then, however brief it'd been. Relished it.

He aches for it now.

When Jared comes, with one hand braced against the wall near Jensen's head, the other bruising Jensen's side, he's still quiet. Like it's a habit. Like silence is something he's been practicing and perfecting for years.

He pulls back after, panting, sweat clinging to the skin above his lip and making his hair stick to the sides of his face. Jensen can only stare.

Neither of them says a word, the air full of nothing but their heavy breathing. Jensen's fingers curl in the loose fabric of Jared's shirt and he tries to ignore the clammy mess on his stomach and pants. He notices the small puddle of sweat low on Jared's neck and licks his lips and Jared breaks the silence with a heavy groan, leans in to bite at Jensen's mouth.

They fall into bed minutes later, a heap of limbs and grunts, and Jared manhandles him, stripping him to nothing. Jensen grapples for the lube and condoms in his nightstand drawer and hides his face in his pillow as Jared drapes himself across Jensen's back, bites at his shoulder and fucks into him, all hot breath and huge hands.

He whispers Jensen's name when he comes, just once, right into Jensen's ear and Jensen falls apart.

:::

Jared doesn't stay the night and Jensen doesn't ask him to, just watches as Jared slips back into his clothes in the dark.

They don't make small talk, don't exchange any useless pleasantries or empty promises. Jared tucks his tie into his suit pocket and stands awkwardly at the foot of Jensen's bed.

"I, uhm. I've got Jack next weekend, but I was thinkin' maybe you and me could..."

Jensen hides a wince and nods. Says, "Yeah, absolutely. I think Rachel's running me ragged for the next month and a half, but you should call me."

The smile Jared gives him then looks strained, a little defeated, but he still nods. "Right, yeah. Yeah, I will."

He's gone ten minutes later and Jensen locks the door behind him, turns to see the mess they made of the living room, the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.

He falls asleep on the couch, discarded bucket of chicken on the floor by his head and when he wakes up hours later with a crick in his neck and muscles aching, for a few seconds, it feels oddly like home.

:::

He hadn't been lying about Rachel running him into the ground. There are a few offers coming in for directing gigs, which is good, but it means suffering through endless meeting after endless meeting on top of the ones for all the acting gigs still coming in. Eric's already thinking of having him do one or two more episodes of _Greek Coven_ in the fall now that they've been renewed and has passed his name onto a friend interested in getting something started for the summer.

Jared calls five times in the midst of it all, leaves three messages, two of them on Jensen's birthday. Jensen texts him back every time, the messages short and to the point. He's not avoiding so much as he's genuinely busy for a change and, when he finally gets enough free time in late March, he decides to do something with it.

He doesn't call beforehand, just shows up on a Friday afternoon with a six-pack and a smile. The combined sounds of Harley barking and Jared gruffly yelling at him to shut the hell up knock Jensen back a few years and he's bouncing on his heels before the door even opens.

"Dude," Jared says, the surprise evident on his face as Harley tries bullying his way through the door.

Smiling wide, Jensen reaches out to let Harley sniff his hand. "Hey, buddy. Long time no see, huh?"

Harley noses and licks at Jensen's fingers and Jared laughs. Says, "Hey, I wasn't--" before cutting himself off with a shake of his head and tugging at Harley's collar as he steps back, door held open wide. "Come in, man. Good to see you."

Jared's barefoot, dressed in jeans and a faded t-shirt and he has a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle in the hand he's not using to rein in Harley. Jensen smirks, wondering if he's caught Jared in the middle of cleaning and almost opens his mouth to start teasing him before another familiar face catches his attention.

"Well hey, Sadiegirl," Jensen says as she runs up to him, sniffing at his ankles. "You remember me? Huh, sweetie?"

"Like she'd forget," Jared says as he releases Harley and shuts the door. The dogs both take turns sniffing over Jensen for a couple seconds before Jared grabs the six-pack and disappears down the hall, motioning for Jensen to follow.

"Was thinking we could go out, actually," Jensen says as he trails behind with the dogs, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "The beer's only in case of emergency. You know, if you're too old and tired to hang with the..."

His words trail off the second he spots Jack.

He's sitting on the floor, smack in the middle of a mess of toy dinosaurs, one hand curled around the neck of a T-Rex as he stares up at Jensen with wide, brown eyes.

"Oh. Hey. Uh," Jensen says before daring a quick glance over at Jared. But Jared's got his back to them, busy putting the beer in the fridge and Jensen takes a second to recover, to bury his blatant stupidity under his even more blatant discomfort and fixes his attention back onto Jared's kid. "Hi. You must be Jack."

Jack doesn't say a word, just continues to stare at him, mouth open as he pulls the dinosaur in towards his chest.

Feeling increasingly stupid, Jensen tries for a smile, faltering as he says, "Hi, Jack. I'm Jensen. I'm a friend of your dad's."

Still, Jack doesn't say anything, just stares and lifts a hand to his mouth, then twists his little body to look over at Jared.

"Sorry, he gets kind of shy around strangers," Jared says, voice low as he walks past Jensen to crouch down by his son, smiling as he pulls Jack's fingers away from his mouth. "You gonna say hi to my friend, kiddo?"

Jack makes a quiet sound then, something between a grunt and a whimper as he drops his toy and ducks forward, hides his face against the meat of Jared's upper arm.

Jared chuckles, the sound melting into a groan as he stands, scooping Jack into his arms.

"C'mon, buddy," he says, shifting Jack's legs around his side as he turns to Jensen. "Jensen's cool, I swear. Not as cool as your old man, but that kinda goes without saying, right?"

Jensen doesn't acknowledge the joke. Just says, "He looks like you," because that's all he can think.

"Yeah," Jared says, looking from Jensen back to Jack, one hand reaching up to brush dark curls away from Jack's eyes. "He always looks more like me when he's being a little punk." Jack scrunches his eyes closed and turns away again and Jared smooths a hand over his back.

Jensen's lips twitch into a bare smile. "Except you're never this quiet."

Jared grins then, dimples flashing. "This is really quiet for him, actually. He was talking a mile a minute before you showed up." His smile is warmer when he looks back at Jack, smooths a thumb under his slightly snotty nose, which makes Jack pull a face and duck away again, one hand curled in the front of Jared's t-shirt before Jared can stop him. "He'll probably start goin' at it again here in a bit. Won't be able to shut him up, you'll see."

"I can-- man, I'm sorry," Jensen says then, grimacing and standing there awkwardly. Every bit the intruder. "I should've called first, I didn't know you--"

"Hey, no, it's cool," Jared says, cutting him off with quick smile. "We were just gonna go hang out at the park here in a little bit. You wanna come with?"

Jensen swallows, stares at the way Jack watches him with shy, wary eyes, head still ducked into his father's broad chest.

It's not that Jensen doesn't like kids or that he's bad with them -- hell, his nephew practically worships the ground he walks on -- but this is different. This is _Jared's_ kid. Knowing about him is one thing, seeing pictures and hearing stories is easy to process and compartmentalize.

But _seeing_ him is something else entirely. Meeting him, staring into those eyes that are so like Sandy's above the nose that's all Jared's.

It'd be easy enough to say no. Just get back in his car and go home. But Jared's looking at him, smiling hopefully and Jensen just can't do it.

Besides, he's endured worse than a few hours of debilitating awkwardness.

"Yeah, okay," he says, letting out a quiet breath. "Sounds like fun."

:::

The park is only a ten minute walk from Jared's house. They take the dogs, something Jared tells him he doesn't ordinarily do when he has Jack to keep an eye on, but they're both clearly thrilled to be included.

It's not too crowded and Jack immediately takes off towards the slide when Jared gives the okay, his short legs carrying him across the padded ground while Jared lingers a few feet behind. Jensen hangs back with the dogs, smiling at the other kids who come up to pet them, their parents watching warily from nearby.

Though some of the looks aren't for the dogs. More than a few people clearly recognize him, some looking like they're trying to think of a way to come up and introduce themselves. It's a little unnerving, but Jared and Jack luckily don't seem to notice and Jensen just pretends he doesn't either.

Jack's entire demeanor changes after only a few minutes on the playground and it isn't long before he's running up to Jensen and the dogs, little hands curling into Sadie's fur as he looks up at Jensen.

"Come play," he says, more demand than request.

Jensen gives his best apologetic smile and says, "Sorry, man, I gotta watch the dogs."

"Oh," Jack replies, brows furrowing a little before he looks back over his shoulder. "They can come, too," he decides. "Harley likes the slide. Sadie doesn't. But she likes to watch us. Daddy said it's her job to watch and make sure we're okay. And to keep Harley from being dumb."

Jensen quirks a smile and Jared says, "Here, I can watch 'em," already reaching to take the leashes before Jensen can protest. Their hands touch briefly and Jared gives him a wink. "He likes the swing best," he says like it's a secret before Jack reaches up to grab Jensen's hand.

"Come on, Jensen," he says, tugging with more strength than Jensen had expected. "Push me on the swing. I went to the park with Mommy and fell off the swing and she cried." Jensen winces, but Jack doesn't give him time to react. Says, "How old are you?"

"I'm, uh. I just turned thirty-four."

Jack nods. "You're old."

They spend ten minutes on the swing before Jack decides he's had enough and drags Jensen to the merry-go-round, ordering him to sit in the middle of it.

"Hold on tight okay?" he says, grabbing one of the outside metal rungs. "You have to or else you'll fly off into the sky and be lost forever."

"Wow, forever?"

"Forever," Jack assures him very seriously.

"Well, okay," Jensen says, sitting cross-legged in the middle. "Wouldn't want that." He grabs on as Jack starts trying to pull and push the thing into motion, grunting with the effort, face scrunched with exertion.

Across the playground, Jensen catches sight of Jared watching them, smile warm and fond as both dogs sit calmly at his feet. It's only then that Jensen wonders what this must look like to the other parents there, the ones who recognize them as Captain America and that jerk cop off _Southland_. The paranoid part of him wonders how many have TMZ on speed dial, how long it'll take before they're ambushed by the paparazzi, how long before all the tabloids name him and Jared as the next gay Hollywood couple, complete with kid and dogs and a goddamn white picket fence.

His thoughts are derailed when Jack lets out a frustrated huff. "You're heavy!" he says, resting his hands on his hips and panting. "You push me now. But don't go _too_ fast because I don't wanna fly away."

Nodding, Jensen smiles and unfolds his legs to slide off.

"You know, I bet if you _did_ fly away, your dad would rescue you."

"I know," Jack says as he climbs up onto the metal platform, totally matter-of-fact. "But I'd miss _The Wiggles_ and dinner and I like dinner."

"I like dinner, too," Jensen says, grinning to himself as he starts spinning Jack around in a slow circle.

"Everyone likes dinner. Daddy _really_ likes dinner. He said he has to eat lots all the time or his stomach will start eating _him_. He said it's almost happened before."

Laughing a little, Jensen nods. Says, "Yeah, I remember that. Wasn't pretty."

"You can go faster," Jack tells him then, seemingly unbothered by his father's brush with death-by-stomach. "I'm holding on really tight, I promise I won't fly off."

Jensen glances down at him, at the mess of curly dark hair and dimpled cheeks, Jack's face the picture of open, innocent determination and feels something in his chest pinch tight. Says, "You got it, buddy. Just don't let go, okay? Don't let go."

:::

Jared makes dinner when they get home, some casserole kind of thing that reminds Jensen of the Hamburger Helper his mom used to make, only better.

"Dude, when'd you learn to cook?" he asks, shoveling in another bite. Realizes half a second later just how stupid a question that is.

But Jared only smirks at him, one arm outstretched to make sure Jack isn't trying to stuff too much into his mouth at once. Though, honestly, Jensen's just amazed the kid's stopped talking long enough to eat at all.

"'Bout a month or two before the divorce," he says and somehow that's not the answer Jensen had been expecting. "Could kinda see it comin', you know? Knew Sandy's hunt me down if I just tried to get away with feeding him pizza and Kid's Meals."

It's the most Jared's really talked about the whole thing and he doesn't get to say much more before Jack pipes in with, "I like the nuggets! With the red sauce. It's sticky."

"Barbeque," Jared says and Jack immediately nods.

"Barbie Do!" he shouts before going to work at food, separating the noodles from the tiny pieces of ground meat. He seems to get distracted with it then, fork still held in his other fist as he meticulously places each tiny piece apart from the others.

"Hey, finish up your dinner, kiddo," Jared says, tapping his fork against the abstract art piece that is Jack's plate.

Jack brings his hand to his mouth, spreading melted sauce over his chin. Says, "Daddy, can I play with Sadie?"

"Not right now," Jared replies. "You need to eat so we can get you cleaned up and in bed. If you don't sleep you'll be cranky and you're not much fun when you're cranky."

"I'm not cranky," Jack says, bottom lip slowly starting to plump out.

"Oh, you're getting there," Jared murmurs before nudging at Jack's plate again. "C'mon, eat. Just a few more bites and then you and Jensen can play with Sadie while I clean up."

Jack looks over then, eyes locking on Jensen like he's just remembering Jensen's even there. But he gives a definitive nod and jams his fork into his food again with a quick, "Okay."

They finish up about five minutes later when Jack starts whining that he's full and starts trying to wiggle out of his booster seat. Jared quickly runs a napkin over Jack's face, cleaning up the larger smudges before Jack squirms free. He shoots Jensen a glance then, mouthing a quick ' _thank you_ ' as he gathers up the dinner mess and Jensen replies with what he hopes Jared reads as a carefree, _hey-don't-mention-it_ kind of smile.

"Let's go, Jensen," Jack says, immediately latching onto Jensen's leg and tugging him toward the other room. "Sadie's waiting!"

And Sadie is indeed waiting, though it appears _waiting_ really means _sleeping peacefully_ just as _playing with Sadie_ clearly means _crawling all over Sadie like she's a furry jungle gym_. Luckily, she doesn't seem to mind it at all, only giving Jensen a hapless, resigned look as Jack buries his face in her fur, pokes at the tiny moles on her muzzle and curls his fists around her ears.

He talks the entire time, telling Jensen all about how Sadie got in trouble for getting into the trash even though it was probably mostly Harley's fault because Harley's the troublemaker. Jensen listens through it all, asking questions when Jack actually gives him the chance and offering his own pieces of information that Jack alternately considers and ignores. All in all, Jensen's had worse conversation.

Jared returns minutes later, scooping Jack up from behind, one arm around his middle, the other ruffling his hair.

"Alright, squirt. Bath time, teeth time and bed time. You know the drill."

"Daddyyyyyy," Jack squeals, legs kicking as he laughs and squirms. "I'm not done playing!"

"Tough cookies, dude. But if you get ready for your bath real quick, I promise I'll read you a story before bed. A really really awesome one, too."

That seems to do the trick, Jack taking off down the hall the second Jared sets him down. He comes running back two seconds later and flings himself against Jensen's right leg, head tipped back to smile up at him. "Night hug!" he explains, all dimples and floppy hair before turning to run off again.

Jensen's chest clenches tight and he turns to see Jared grinning at him from ear to ear.

"Uh, yeah. He kind of has a thing for hugging."

"Mmm," Jensen says, fighting his own grin. "Wonder where he got that from."

Jared's smile is almost shy then as he gives a low chuckle and says, "Okay, this'll probably take me about half an hour or so. Feel free to the beer in the fridge and just, like... camp out in front of the TV or whatever. Pretty sure the DVR is full of _Wiggles_ re-runs, but you can look through it if you want. Think there might be a week old Spurs game on there."

"Well, as tempting as _that_ is," Jensen says, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust.

Jared laughs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and says, "Seriously, whatever. Just chill here for awhile. I'll be an hour at most, I swear."

Jensen gets the feeling Jared's trying not to beg him to stay. His brows are knit and he's fidgeting in that way he does so rarely, fingers of his right hand tapping a soundless rhythm against his thigh as he waits.

But Jensen pastes on a smile and sucks in a breath before saying, "Yeah, cool. Take your time," and is immediately rewarded by Jared's wide, relieved smile.

Once Jared disappears down the hall, Jensen grabs a beer from the fridge and plants himself in front of the television. Harley joins him minutes later, his butt warming Jensen's right foot as they spend the next half hour or so flipping through the channels. Though Jensen has a hard time concentrating on anything, his mind otherwise occupied.

The whole evening has been nothing like he'd expected. Though, to be fair, he's entirely not sure what he _had_ expected. He'd wanted to hang out, sure. Maybe get a little wasted and swap stories again, maybe go out and build a few new memories. Maybe hook up, if he's completely honest.

Because Jensen can handle that. He can make Jared go from being this guy he used to be really great friends with, this guy he maybe used to be a little in love with, into this guy he doesn't see very much and occasionally fucks. It doesn't have to be a big deal and he doesn't have to lose Jared completely. Doesn't have to live without him like he has for the past way-too-long. Jared can still be in his life and it can be good and uncomplicated so long as he keeps some clear parameters and doesn't get in too deep again.

But he hadn't thought about this part of it. The part where yeah, Jared's divorced and available, but he still has a kid. He'll _always_ have a kid. And not only is that kid the physical, unintentional embodiment of everything that went wrong between them, but he's _real_ and kind of incredible and already so much like Jared it almost hurts to look at him.

Jensen hadn't counted on that. Just as he hadn't counted on getting to know Jack as a person, even a tiny, still-kind-of-forming person, to having a conversation with him, to spending a night with just him and Jared and _liking_ it.

"Whales, huh?"

Jensen jumps at the sound of Jared's voice, whips around to see him standing just behind the couch. Jared nods at the television and Jensen realizes he's stopped on some deep sea program on the Discovery Channel.

"Yeah, uhm," he starts, laughing awkwardly as he fiddles with the remote. "Kinda got sucked in, I guess."

Grinning, Jared makes a non-committal sound as he rounds the couch and drops onto the cushion beside Jensen. Says, "There a game on?"

"Probably," Jensen replies, thumbing away from the stupid whale show.

Jared's quiet as he props his feet up on the coffee table, relaxes back into the cushions with a weary exhale and Jensen keeps his focus straight ahead, locked on the television. There's still a few feet of space between them, but Jensen feels smothered, tense and anxious for something he can't name.

Jared seems to sense it, shifting slightly moments later and saying, "Hey, so sorry about... I wasn't expecting you to show up like this. I would've warned you."

"Dude, no," Jensen says, hiding a wince. "Don't apologize. It's cool." Because even if Jensen's freaking out a little, he's at least with it enough to recognize that it's not Jared's fault. Besides, "I had a good time. Jack's..." he trails off a little, stomach untwisting slightly as he lets out a laugh. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah," Jared says, but Jensen can't help noticing the quiet resignation in his tone. Like he knows Jensen's hiding something and isn't about to ask what it might be. "He is. Kind of a handful at times, but I wouldn't trade him for anything."

The comment isn't meant to be cutting, but Jensen feels it anyway, pastes on a smile to smooth it over as he nods. "Yeah, I bet."

They fall quiet when Jensen finds a game on CBS, the latest March Madness meet-up, this one between UCLA and IU. He's never really cared about college basketball, but it's something to keep them both occupied, the noise enough to distract from the increasingly awkward silence.

Jared gets him another beer a little while later and nurses his own as they watch the Hoosiers slowly crush the Bruins. But Jensen spends the last twenty minutes of the game thinking up an excuse to leave. Because it's weird now. The whole night is weird. It's just him and Jared on the couch having a beer, the situation all too familiar except for how Jack's asleep just down the hall and there's a mess of coloring books and crayons on the table, a headless stegosaurus by his foot, a pile of over-sized Legos in the far corner.

And it's weird because Jared so clearly _fits_ in this world now. It's weird because Jensen can so easily see _himself_ fitting in this world, too. Can picture himself right there on the couch some other night just like this one, Jack nestled between them as they all watch the fucking _Wiggles_. Whatever the hell that is.

It's weird and it's terrifying and it's nothing Jensen wants. Because he's tired of wanting what he can't have.

So when the game finally draws to a close, Jensen pulls in a breath and squares his shoulders. Says, "I should go."

Jared looks over at him, his contended smile slipping.

"Just remembered I have a meeting with Karen in the morning," Jensen adds, laying out his carefully constructed lie.

The arch of Jared's eyebrow gives away his obvious doubt, but he doesn't call Jensen on it, just nods as he lifts his feet off the coffee table. Says, "Yeah, man. 'Course. I'll walk you out."

As they're saying their goodbyes, Jared predictably invites him to come by again. "Seriously," he says, leaning against the door frame with one hand stuffed in his pocket. "Jack's already kind of obsessed with you. So. You know. Think you're kinda obligated now."

Jensen smiles, quick but genuine. Says, "Yeah, I will. Definitely."

"Great," Jared says, all hopeful smiles again even as they both stand there awkwardly on Jared's front porch.

"I'll call you," Jensen adds. Because it feels like the right thing to say.

"Awesome. Drive safe, Jen."

Jensen heads down the walk to his car, gets in and starts the ignition. Sees Jared watching him from the doorway, barefoot and waving. As far as last moments go, Jensen figures it's pretty poetic, the porch light above Jared's head painting him in a soft glow.

It helps to convince him he's doing the right thing as he backs out of the drive and doesn't look back.

:::

Liz stays over the next night, sleeps curled around him under the covers and gets up early to work on a paper. By the time he makes it downstairs the next morning, she's sitting at his kitchen table in one of his old t-shirts, hunched over a book with a highlighter in her mouth. She has her iPod in and is tapping out a rhythm Jensen can't hear, her hair a mess, stray strands stuck behind her ears and she has one leg up on the chair, chin resting on her knee.

"Hey," she says when she notices him, her voice a little too loud. She nods back over her shoulder. "Coffee's getting cold."

But Jensen doesn't move. He's groggy and uncaffeinated, but he's also seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.

"I think we should break up," he says. Quiet. Testing it out.

Liz looks at him blankly and then twitches a smile, lifts one hand to pull out an earbud. "What, babe? Sorry."

Jensen swallows. He could take it back right here, pretend everything's fine and carry on. Because they could have a future, he knows. Liz is nothing like Jared and that could be just exactly what he needs. In time, he could really love her, could marry her and have kids of his own. Maybe lots of them. With his eyes and her brains. His mother would be ecstatic.

But he could've had that with Dannel, too. Instead, he'd realized way too late that she was nothing but a consolation prize to someone he'd never have.

And Liz, like Danneel, deserves better than that.

He pulls in a breath, feels his fingers twitch against one thigh. Says it louder this time. Clearer.

Liz's eyes widen, her expression flickering from confusion to suspicion to cautious amusement before realizing he's serious.

"Why?" she asks. Simple and straight to the point. "Tell me why."

And Jensen can't answer that without sounding like the douchiest kind of cliché. He isn't about to spout any bullshit about needing to find himself, so instead he says, "I just... this wasn't ever meant to be anything serious. And I think. I need to focus on my career. And you have school. And we just... you know, maybe in a year or two when things calm down for both of us. Maybe then."

Liz's lips are a thin line and she's holding the highlighter tight in one hand, the cords of her headphones lying limp against her leg.

"Jesus, you're so full of shit," she says, shaking her head.

He doesn't know what she means by it, but he doesn't question. Doesn't want to know.

She snaps her book closed and gathers up her iPod and notebook, shoves past him on her way out of the kitchen. He doesn't ask for his shirt back as she packs her things, just watches her with a detached sort of longing. For what, he isn't sure.

"Liz," he says as she reaches the front door, backpack slung over her shoulder.

When she looks back at him, her eyes are rimmed red and her lips are twisted. It catches him by surprise, her anger and hurt so apparent and whatever he'd been about to say dies in his throat.

"Maybe it wasn't serious for you," she says finally, words strained and sentence hanging unfinished as she walks out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Jensen stands there for a long while, wondering if he's made yet another huge mistake.

:::

The premiere of _Low on Grafton_ is a week later in Boston and Jensen flies out to make an appearance. Danneel looks as gorgeous as ever in a form-fitting emerald green dress, hair swept back, dark red tendrils falling to her bare shoulders. She's with a guy Jensen doesn't recognize and she lets go of him to wrap her arms around Jensen.

"God, Jensen," she says, pulling back to smooth a hand down his arm. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She looks genuinely happy to see him, which is something of a relief, all things considered, and Jensen answers with a shrug, lets his hands settle on her waist. "Think I'd miss this?"

Laughing, she links her hand in his and introduces him Scott, her new boyfriend, a musician from New York and friend of her brother's. They've been dating for six months.

"So where's Liz?" Danneel asks then, glancing past Jensen's shoulder like she might be hiding.

Jensen cringes inwardly and gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Back in LA. We're not..."

It's not really public yet, though it will be after tonight, Jensen knows. _'Jensen Ackles Arrives Solo to Major Movie Premiere'_ ; the media will be all over it. At least until the next big Hollywood or reality TV star gets divorced or married or caught with his pants down in a public bathroom.

"Oh," Danneel says, softening. "I'm sorry."

He can't help noticing that she doesn't look particularly surprised.

The film is better than Jensen had anticipated and Danneel's performance as a single mother with a tortured past is unnervingly good. It's not a exactly a period piece, but it's dark and gritty, the atmosphere heavier than Jensen had thought from just reading the script. The costuming and production are excellent and he recognizes some of the cobbled, winding streets from his hapless visit a year before, feels a tug of regret that doesn't have much to do with the end result, but rather his own wayward actions. It's not exactly a comfortable feeling.

After, he makes a point of finding Danneel again, congratulating as he presses a kiss to her temple.

"Thanks," she says, smiling up at him with a look in her eyes Jensen hadn't realized he'd missed. She lifts a hand to his face then, palm soft against his cheek and looks like she wants to say something more, red lips forming soundless words. But then she laughs and shakes her head, gives his cheek a light pat. Says, "Call me sometime, will you?"

"Yeah, of course," he replies. And he thinks he actually might.

:::

The weeks tick by after that, Jensen's schedule full of meetings and lunches and conferences calls to discuss upcoming projects, a few of them getting solidified once they work out timing and logistics. He does the press junket for _Breaking April_ and spends a couple weeks traveling the talk show circuit. People are already talking Oscars and Golden Globes, though none of the speculation is over Jensen so much as the film itself, the writing and production.

May 17th comes and goes. It's one of those dates he never actively thinks about remembering, but always does. Has for three years. It's right there on his boarding pass this time, above his name and scheduled flight time and, for a moment, he's transported to a white gazebo in the middle of a quiet lake in south Texas, Sandy's bright smile as she dances to the Spice Girls, Jack gumming on Jared's bowtie.

Jared's called him twice since that one Friday afternoon, has sent half a dozen text messages. And Jensen's done a good job of ignoring them all, of telling himself it's better this way. That it has to be.

But he's waiting at his gate in LAX, staring at the boarding sign ticking down the minutes and he's not thinking about Sandy in a wedding dress anymore or that picture of Jack, a few hours old in his father's arms.

He's thinking about every other minute he's spent waiting to catch a plane to Vancouver and what was always there waiting for him on the other side.

He doesn't mention the date in his text and hopes Jared doesn't make the connection. Just types in, ' _Heading to YVR. Like the good old days. Hope ur well._ ' and hits send.

There's no response waiting for him when he lands hours later. Jensen tells himself he's not disappointed.

:::

The film is a lower budget Canadian production about a gang of washed-up ex-hockey players trying to make a living after leaving the game. It's not the typical sports movie, but just exactly the kind of thing Jensen's wanted to be involved in since he first started out in the business. There's a little comedy and a little drama with real characters and real problems and spectacular writing. It's good enough that he's taking a pay cut for the role, good enough that he doesn't even care that they'll likely market the whole thing based largely on his name alone. It's something he can be proud of, something more like _Breaking April_ to show he really _is_ a legitimate actor and not just a pretty face or a wannabe director, not just Captain Fucking America.

Unsurprisingly, there are more than a few familiar faces on the crew, including Gene, who invites him out for drinks on the second day. They wind up in a bar just off Davie, only a couple blocks away from the hotel Jensen had stayed in his first year of _Supernatural_. It looks the same as Jensen remembered, music still too loud and the drinks too strong. There's a picture above the bar he doesn't recognize, but that's about it. Everything else is exactly the same.

They're on their second round when Gene says, "So how's Jared?"

Jensen's leaned in close to hear him over the music and he shrugs before stuffing a french fry into his mouth. "He's good. Ran into him a couple months back."

"Oh, yeah?" Gene says, tips his bottle to his lips. "Heard about him and Sandy. Pretty rough."

Jensen's lips twitch into a slight grimace and he takes another sip of his beer. "Seems to be handling it okay."

"Well, that's Jared," Gene says with a rueful smirk. "Swear that kid can find a way to smile through anything. Man, I didn't wanna say anything at the time, but I always kinda had a feeling they wouldn't last."

That comes as a surprise to Jensen and he's sure it must show on his face given the way Gene swallows his drink and immediately starts back peddling.

"I mean. Well, the distance was hell on them, that was always easy to see. And getting married because of a kid? Never a good plan. Never."

Jensen doesn't know why, but he finds himself getting defensive on Jared's behalf. Considering the circumstances and the eventual outcome, it's pretty stupid. Because Gene's right; Jared and Sandy are over. But that doesn't mean they hadn't really loved each other at one time, it doesn't mean that they both hadn't _tried_ , if only for the sake of their kid.

To Jensen, it's still admirable. As much as it'd sucked at the time, he'd understood the reasoning. At the heart of it, Jared's a good ol' southern boy, brought up to believe that a man takes responsibility for his actions and faces the consequences. And, with the best of intentions, that's exactly what he'd done.

But Jensen only says, "Well, they sure as hell surprised me," and realizes it isn't at all untrue. He downs another gulp of his beer and grabs another fry.

Luckily, Gene seems to get that the topic is off the table and abruptly starts talking about hockey, a sport Jensen's never really had much interest in. But, if there's one thing Jensen's always been good at, it's faking it. And this time's no exception.

"Yeah, man, I'm fuckin' tired of the Red Wings," he says and Gene's off like a shot, into a rant Jensen's only half paying attention to as he finishes his beer.

:::

The only problem with Vancouver is how little of it has changed. Most of the film is being shot in the heart of the city, around Gastown, Robson and Chinatown and Jensen finds himself wandering the streets during his days off just to kill time.

He finds the tourist shop on Robson, the one where Jared had bought him that awful t-shirt. Surprisingly, they still carry it and Jensen briefly considers replacing the one he'd thrown out before buying a shot glass for Tyler and a tacky commemorative plate for his mother instead.

There's the bar off Hastings Jared had dragged him to a couple times, the one with the sticky floors and hot bartenders. There's the Tim Horton's at the corner of Davie and Howe where they'd once emptied the place of their entire donut stock to take back to set; the Two Parrots a couple blocks from there where he and Jared had snuck in a quarter of a Monday Night game in between shooting; the tattoo parlor on Granville where Jared had spent about three hours going back and forth on whether or not he should get inked; the tiny club off Cordova where they'd watched Steve play a few times.

And there are a thousand other places he _doesn't_ see while he's there: all the smaller side streets and open fields in Burnaby and Surrey and Delta. He thinks about renting a car and driving out to a few for the hell of it, but then remembers he doesn't actually know where most of them _are_. Or if he'd even recognize them without set dressings.

It's probably a bad idea anyway.

In the two weeks he's been up north, he hasn't heard one word from Jared. No calls, e-mails or texts. It should be a relief, a sign that they've both gotten this _thing_ , whatever it is, out of their systems and can move on.

He tries burying the old memories under new ones, does his best to get out with people on the crew, to dinner and drinks and parties. Tries turning his back on the ghost of a life he doesn't have anymore and facing the here and now, his life post-Jared once and for all.

And it works for awhile. The people he's working with are all great for the most part, down-to-earth and fun to be around. As good as any group he's ever worked with.

But one minute, he's laughing and arguing with Roy over whether the Eagles have a shot in hell of beating the Cowboys this coming season or tossing back drinks with Sophia after another long day or working out the nuances of a scene with Peter; and the next, he's catching a whiff of the AD's cinnamon dolce latte from Starbucks or watching some guy walk his dogs down the street or passing the over-sized bowl of candy on set and Jared's right there all over again. Right there like he never left at all.

:::

They're on their second in a long line of night shoots when Jensen finally caves. It's three in the morning and he's sucking down his fourth coffee, right leg jittery on his chair as he watches the crew wander the set, altering lighting and adjusting dolly tracks. He's too restless to hole up in his trailer, too tired to go for a walk, too apathetic to find any other option remotely compelling and so he finds himself thinking instead. Remembering.

His hand drops to his phone before he even realizes he's reached for it, thumb padding the keys.

' _Sucks up here_ ,' he types in before hitting the backspace and writing in, ' _Long night. Bored shitless. You around?_ '

He doesn't expect a response right away and doesn't get one, but by the time they wrap shortly after dawn, there's one waiting for him: ' _Some of us sleep at night. Fucking vampire._ '

Smirking to himself, Jensen types out, ' _Was working, asshole. Finally wrapping up_ ,' and pockets his phone as he climbs into the taxi taking him back to the apartment the production company's put him up in.

It vibrates against his leg seconds later and he laughs as he pulls it free, reading the single word reply:

' _Pussy_.'

There's not really much to add to that, so he just slides his phone back into his pocket, watches the city slowly awaken behind the single window pane.

And he thinks this could be okay. Maybe Jared doesn't have to be gone from his life completely, maybe they can still be friends. Maybe Jensen doesn't have to think about all the complications, about Jack and his own career and how much he still aches for what could've been. Maybe it can just be this: a quick e-mail or text message across a few hundred miles away, an occasional card on birthdays and holidays, a phone call after a major life event.

Maybe this can be enough.

:::

The next night is just as tiring. Jensen steps in, hits his marks and delivers his lines; Steven calls cut, talks to him and Trish for a minute, changes an angle here or there and tells them to try it again. Over and over again.

In between takes, Jensen sips at his coffee and squints against the bright city lights, thinks idly of sending Jared another text message, just to be annoying. He decides against it when he realizes it might be Jared's turn with Jack and interrupting whatever sleep the guy may or may not be getting would be pretty dickish.

"Alright, I think that's it for tonight," Steven finally calls out a few hours later and Jensen sags with relief before heading to wardrobe.

It's another hour before the cab drops him off in front of his apartment building and it takes him three more minutes to get past security, through the lobby and up to his floor. He digs his keys out of his pocket as he steps out of the elevator, turns right to head down the hall, stops short when he sees the lump of a sleeping person propped against his door.

A sleeping person in a Longhorns t-shirt with a black duffle bag at his side and floppy brown hair.

A sleeping person with long, long legs bent up at the knees that Jensen would recognize anywhere.

He's too stunned to do anything but stare at first and, slowly, Jared starts to stir, lips twisting in a grimace as he straightens his back and then turns his head, sees Jensen standing only a few feet away.

Jensen blinks as their eyes meet and sucks in a quick breath. Finds enough of his voice to say, "Hey."

"Hey," Jared replies, staring right back for another long beat before slowly untucking his legs and getting to his feet.

"You're-- what are you doing here?"

Jared smiles then, just a twitch of his lips as he scratches at the side of his neck. It's a nervous habit Jensen recognizes from way back and, for a second, Jared's that gangly, fresh-faced kid Jensen met seven years ago, young and eager and impossibly genuine.

"I, uh," Jared starts, breaking off the answer with a sheepish laugh. "You, actually."

It's possible Jensen's just really tired, but he's fairly sure that doesn't make any sense.

"I mean, you're what I'm doing here," Jared continues, clarifying. "You're why I'm here."

Jensen frowns. On one hand, that makes a little more sense, but on the other, it's about ten times more confusing. Or maybe, given the way Jensen's heart rate has kicked up a notch and his breathing is going shallow, he just really doesn't _want_ to make sense of it.

Or maybe it's that he really does.

His gaze darts down the hall and his fingers twitch, insides twisting uncomfortably. It's 5:30 on a weekday morning and the hallway's currently empty, but it won't stay that way for much longer. And Jensen's pretty sure that whatever Jared needs to share isn't something he really wants broadcast to his neighbors, temporary as they may be.

"Look, I'll make it quick," Jared says, as though he's been reading Jensen's mind. Somehow that's not quite as unnerving as it should be.

Jared's watching him like he would a frightened animal, like Jensen could bolt at any time. Doesn't relax at all until Jensen gives a quick, stilted nod for him to continue.

"Okay," Jared says, holding one hand up in mid-surrender. His fingers curl in a loose fist as he falters, pulls in another rough breath and lets it out with a whoosh. "Okay, so here's the thing," he manages finally, eyes locking on Jensen's. "I'm in love with you. I have been since-- fuck, probably since the minute I met you. But I wasn't... I'd never felt like that about a guy before and I didn't get it and by the time I _did_ , I... everything just... God, I _know_ I fucked up, man. I know I made a royal shit ton of mistakes. Not with Jack," he adds hastily. "Jack's the best thing to happen to me since you walked into my life and I don't regret a single second of his existence, but it's not about that. Not about him or even Sandy. It's about how I've tried _so hard_ to get over you for the past four years and it's just not happening. I think it is sometimes. I tell myself it is. But I'm so... God, I'm so tired of fucking lying to myself all the time, I'm tired of--"

"Jared."

It's barely a whisper, barely a breath of air. But it has the desired effect, Jared's mouth snapping shut as he waits for Jensen to continue.

Trouble is, Jensen doesn't exactly know what he's meant to say. His heart's somewhere in the middle of his throat and his stomach is churning, roiling in his belly as he rubs a hand over his face. Says, "Jared, you can't-- Fuck, you can't _do_ this."

"I can," Jared says immediately, taking another step closer. "Jensen, I _am_ doing this."

"Well, _don't_!" Jensen snaps, more panicked than angry. Because Jared's suddenly saying everything Jensen's been longing to hear for _years_ and he doesn't know where it's coming from or how to handle it. Doesn't know how any of this can be fucking _possible_ anymore.

But Jared doesn't back down. Just gets that look on his face, that stupid wounded puppy look that Jensen's never been able to ignore and says, " _Please_."

Jensen closes his eyes tight and breathes in quick through his nose as he shakes his head. It feels wrong somehow. Jared shouldn't be the one begging.

"God, I _know_ you, Jensen. I know--"

"We've barely _talked_ in three years!" Jensen cuts in, struggling to keep his voice down in the open hallway. "How can you possibly say you know me anymore?"

"I know you," Jared says again, more insistent. "I know you better than anyone. I know you've been spending the past however many weeks up here trying to forget every minute we spent together in this stupid city. I know you've been thinking you should've stayed away, taken another job. In any place other than this one. I know you hate being out in this hallway right now because someone might see us or hear us and fuck _knows_ what they might think, right? Who they might tell. I know you haven't called me because seeing Jack totally made you freak out and I _knew_ it would; I could see it happening the whole time you were there. Because you weren't expecting to fall in love with him and you-- I don't know. Maybe you think you're trying to protect him or me or maybe you think this could fuck up your career or that I'm just gonna screw up and get somebody pregnant again. I don't know. But whatever the case, I _do_ know you're still a fucking idiot."

The last is said with a hint of a smile, though Jensen can't return it. Somewhere in the midst of his speech, Jared's crowded up into Jensen's space and Jensen suddenly can't get enough air to even argue, much less smile.

Jared's hands are on his arms, heavy and warm. They slide up to his shoulders and then back down again to curl over Jensen's elbows and his eyes are wide, desperate in a way Jensen's never seen before, like his entire future rests in whatever Jensen says or does in this moment.

And Jensen can only stand there, frozen, rooted to the spot as Jared whispers, "Jensen, c'mon. I've been-- shit, I've been sitting out here for _hours_ , dude. On your door step like some kind of creepy stalker and I just-- I _need_ you to tell me what you're thinking. Please. Just this once."

Something in his tone makes Jensen finally break, makes him force the words out, strained through the tightness in his throat. "You know, when we were up here, Jay, when it was just you and me?" he starts and Jared nods, eyes begging him to continue. "Before it all went to hell, I mean. Before you knew about Sandy, before... Fuck, man, I would've-- my career, my image, my fucking ignorant family. _Danneel_. I would've--"

Jared's brows furrow, confusion written in every line and Jensen lets out a frustrated breath, shakes his head. Says, "I broke up with Liz."

"Yeah," Jared says, quieter now. Hesitant as his hands grip Jensen tight, keeping him from shaking apart. "I heard."

There's an unspoken question there, Jensen can feel it. And he wants Jared to ask, _needs_ him to. But Jared's quiet. Waiting. Breathing with him.

So Jensen finally says, "Me and her, we were never..." he trails off as Jared's grip tightens slightly and his gaze drops to Jensen's mouth. The look is like a physical weight and Jensen shudders a breath. Says, "Jared, she wasn't--"

Jared's eyes snap back to his own, wide and hopeful and Jensen stops short, breath caught in his throat.

There are a millions reasons this is a bad idea. Jack is only the start, the most obvious. This could shatter everything, could send his world crashing in a thousand tiny, paparazzi-sized pieces.

And, in that second, in that hallway at 5:30 in the morning, Jensen realizes some things in life just never change.

"It's you, okay?" he says, words choking on an exhale. "She wasn't... goddamnit, I love _you_."

It's a confession, damning and freeing both at once. And Jared doesn't react at all at first, just stays standing close, eyes trained on Jensen's, staring into him like he's waiting for something else. Something more. A catch.

"I love you," Jensen repeats, barely a whisper. Time stutters for half a second, leaves Jensen weightless and terrified before Jared's mouth is on him, bringing him back down with warm lips, one broad palm against his neck, refusing to let him go. Jensen can't keep back a whimper, can't do anything but curl his hands in the fabric of Jared's t-shirt, open up and hold on.

This time, it's not a goodbye. This time, it's dusty humidity and never-ending blue sky. Cold beer and pick-up trucks and country radio.

This time, it's everything.

 **end.**


End file.
